Into the Flames
by JoeyStar
Summary: It's been over a month since Chris's explosive new power manifested and he disappeared with the Phoenix witch Bianca. Worried that his brother's started down a dark path, Wyatt sets off to bring him home. [Sequel to "Out of the Ashes"].
1. Chapter One: Wyatt

**A/N: **Welcome to the sequel to "Out of the Ashes". I'd advise reading that story before this one, as this is a direct sequel and will contain many references to events from the first story, so you might get a bit confused if you haven't read it. I will once again be writing alternate chapters from the perspective of different characters, although this time I'm only using Chris and Wyatt (although Melinda will still be in the story to some extent). Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter One: Wyatt**

They were called the Phoenix. A family of elite assassin witches descended from the time of the Salem Witch Trials. Driven by vengeance, they sold their magical services to the highest bidder and owed allegiance to no one. Possessors of the Grimoire, their version of the Book of Shadows, they were marked by a red birthmark of the phoenix, rising from the ashes. They were dangerous and deadly in equal measure

And now they had his brother.

It hadn't taken Aunt Paige long to remember where she'd heard the name "Bianca" before and as soon as she'd shared the memory it had open the floodgates. The Phoenix entry in the Book had come out, before Billie's startled exclamation and a scrap of ragged parchment had revealed that there was much more to this situation than Chris randomly befriending a Phoenix witch. No, the Phoenix had been working this one for a while, orchestrating the attack on the manor, which had caused Chris's powers to manifest for a second time, and then making contact with him in person. Wyatt was willing to bet that this Bianca had something to do with Chris's sudden interest in security tapes and police files too. The Phoenix witches had manipulated his little brother from start to finish… the question was, why?

Like the Halliwells – at least until the current generation – the Phoenix witches were traditionally female, with powers passed down from mothers to daughters, so a male witch would have no direct place in their clan. And they were powerful enough on their own; adding in Chris would be like super-charging a super-nova. Which left only the unpleasant thought that maybe they were looking to expand their gene pool, but then surely Chris was too young? Why not wait a few years? Or choose a less conspicuous target, someone who didn't have hoard of powerful relatives ready to strike at a moment's notice?

Then there was Bianca herself. From their reactions to the name, his aunts had obviously met her before and so had his parents. The rest of the family not so much, but when Billie had asked for an explanation, Aunt Phoebe had fobbed them off with something about running into the Phoenix witches back when Wyatt was a baby. Wyatt could believe that, but Bianca was supposed to be around his age, right, so wouldn't she have been a baby back then too? What was so memorable about this woman that his family would remember her eighteen years on?

He had a lot of unanswered questions and the last several weeks had done little to fill in the blanks. All he knew for sure was that Chris was still missing and wherever he'd gone, it was beyond their magical sight. Scrying had failed. Spells had failed. Appealing to the Elders had failed. Trawling through all of their magical contacts and Underworld connections had failed. The Phoenix witches had covered their tracks well.

So it was that on the morning of Chris's sixteenth birthday, Wyatt decided he'd had enough. He woke early and snuck out of the house before anyone else was up. He might not have bothered. Melinda was staying at Aunt Phoebe's – had been for a couple of weeks now – which just left him and Mom rattling around in the mansion. Dad was… well he'd pretty much moved permanently into his office at Magic School. When Wyatt had tracked him down and demanded an explanation, his dad has confessed that he couldn't stand the fighting any longer. Couldn't stand the guilt. He'd seemed so small and broken that any anger brewing inside Wyatt died.

The wind whistled down the street and Wyatt drew his scarf and coat more tightly around himself to ward of the chill. He checked his watch for the fourteenth time and was just debating getting his phone out when a beaten up old Cadillac lurched into view, weaving up the road and then screeching to a halt beside him, front tire mounting the curb. The driver's door opened and the guy that emerged, shivering, was short and almost painfully thin, with curly dark hair and thick, black-rimmed glasses just peeking out from underneath a black beanie hat. The collar of his dark coat was turned up against the wind.

"Alright, Wy?"

A smile blossomed across Wyatt's face. "Dex. Thanks for coming, man."

The smaller man shrugged theatrically. "What can I say? It's been a slow week."

Dex Stafford looked and acted about twenty years old, but we probably closer to a hundred. Wyatt had met the half-demon when he'd been helping his Aunt Paige and Uncle Henry out on a probation case a couple of years ago, and despite his mom's best efforts, they'd established something resembling a friendship. Piper Halliwell saw Dex as a bad influence, but for Wyatt he was a real breath of fresh air. There was no pretension about Dex and no judgement from him – he just _was_. And sometimes that was exactly what Wyatt needed.

"So what's up? You sounded kind of constipated on the phone."

"It's about Chris."

Dex nodded. "Figured as much. Sorry about that, by the way."

"You heard?"

"Demonic grapevine's as active as ever. And… well it's kind of got our interest, what with you being practically magical royalty and all."

It was something he'd heard from Dex before, but that didn't mean Wyatt had to like it. "If you start in on the your Highness again –"

"Peace, Wy. I'm just messing. But I really am sorry about Chris. He was a good kid, for a whiny little emo."

"He's not dead," Wyatt said sharply. "Just –"

"– flirting with team Evil for a while."

" – with the Phoenix witches."

Dex whistled. "Phoenix? Seriously? That's badass."

"What do you know about them?"

Dex dug in his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, which he lit with a flick of his fingers. "Not much. Dated one of them once, few decades back. Fierce. The sex was…" He shook his head dreamily. "I swear I only just about got out of that relationship alive." He flicked ash onto the ground, narrowly avoiding Wyatt's shoe.

"What was her name?"

Dex chewed on his cigarette. "Ashley? Alexia? Avaline? Avaline. Or maybe Erica…"

Wyatt sighed inwardly. Dex was a good guy most of the time, but also had a knack for being a complete pain in the ass without even trying. Particularly when it came to girls.

"Yeah, I think it was Erica. Man, that girl was hot." Dex grinned to himself. "The things those legs could do…"

"Dex."

"Huh? Oh, sorry, was I drooling? She really was _fine_. Scary as hell, but _damn_ was it worth it."

"Do you remember anything beyond her name? Like what she does, where she works… where the Phoenix hang out?"

"What, an evil version of Casa de Halliwell, you mean?" Dex puffed thoughtfully on his cigarette. "Dunno. If there is, Emma never took me there."

Whatever vague sliver of hope had still existed inside Wyatt died. "Great."

"She did take me to _her_ house, though." Dex dropped the cigarette and ground it underneath his heel. "Wanna see?"

* * *

After a long and painful drive, where Wyatt had become convinced Dex was actively aiming at every pot hole and speed bump in the city, the car finally slowed and his friend took one final right-hand turn.

"Here you go."

Wyatt looked around. Trees lined the road on either side and the houses were set well back, resplendent behind their walls and fences, driveways littered with sensible family cars. On one side of the road a man was gamely watering his half-frozen flowerbed while opposite, two boys were chucking a ball back and forth with the bored air of kids whose parents had banned TV and Internet. Everything about it screamed Middle American Suburbia.

"Are you sure we're in the right place…?"

"Did we pass Wing Yung's Thai Takeout?" Confused, Wyatt nodded slowly and Dex looked satisfied. "Then we're in the right place. Emma introduced me to it. Best non-sex-related thing to come out of that relationship." He closed his eyes momentarily, a beatific smile gracing his face. "Their food is _epic_."

Dex's culinary choices aside, even being on – Wyatt twisted around in his seat so he could see the road sign – Dawnview Way didn't help to narrow things down much. The road curved around to the left and out of sight – who knows how many houses there were down there?

"Lot of houses to search… can you be a bit more specific?"

"God, you don't ask for much do you?" Dex complained without heat. He drummed his fingers on the dashboard and then began crawling along the road, head roving from left to right, checking the houses. Five minutes later they were still going and as a third irritated motorist swerved around them, horn blaring, Wyatt was on the verge of calling a halt to the whole thing. Of course, Dex chose that moment to stop so abruptly Wyatt lost his balance and slipped off the seat, then threw the car into reverse – making Wyatt's head snap back the other way – before finally pulling up to the kurb with a grinding, bumping noise that Dex really should have been more bothered about that.

"This one."

Wyatt followed his friend's gaze. The house in question was an attractive, old-fashioned building, set back behind a curved drive, with wide windows and cheerful window boxes. The lawn was an almost unnatural shade of green and a large, thick-bodied tree stood in its centre, spreading dappled sunlight across the ground. A car – some kind of station wagon – languished on the driveway. Like the rest of Dawnview Way, it couldn't have looked more innocuous if it had tried.

"And this is definitely the house…?"

"Always with the doubting – doesn't that get tiring? Where's the love, Wy? Where's the trust?"

"Squashed beneath the weight of experience," Wyatt said dryly.

"If I wasn't half-evil, that would really sting… yeah, I'm sure. It might have been twenty odd years ago and I might have been totally wasted, but I left my mark."

Well that could mean any number of weird, wonderful or probably twisted, things. "Do I want to know?"

"I told you Elisa was hot, right? _Smoking_."

"You might have mentioned it."

"No I mean, _literally_, smoking. Girl could hurl an energy bolt like no one else. 'Course, so can I." Dex grinned. "Only natural we'd challenge each other to a duel at one in the morning. Only, well, she kind of tackled me when I was taking a shot, and I might have kind of… accidentally set fire to that tree." He nodded at it and now that he'd pointed it out, Wyatt could see a darkened patch of bark on one side of the trunk. "We put it out before her parents noticed, but it left this heart-shaped burn, so then she starts getting all giggly and decides we should burn our initials into it, make it like a love heart." He rolled his eyes as if to say 'girls, what can you do?'. "I only went along with it 'cos she said she wouldn't sleep with me for a month. Should have saved myself the bother – I dumped her two days later."

Wyatt watched the house for a bit longer. "Fancy renewing an old acquaintance?"

"Are you nuts? D'you know how long I was on the run after dumping that crazy bitch? Three years. _Three years_, Wy!" Dex sagged back into his seat. "That's one for your memory banks: Phoenix witches don't take rejection well."

_How do they take a random stranger knocking on their front door_…? Wyatt wondered. Well, he was about to find out. He opened the car door.

Dex grabbed his arm. "Wait a sec – you're going _in_? After I just said… you forget about the part where they're crazy assassin witches?"

"You forget about the part where they have my little brother?" Wyatt countered.

Dex made a show of reluctantly releasing him. "Your funeral, Wy."

Closing the door behind him, Wyatt immediately missed the warmth of Dex's heaters, cranked up to max as usual. The wind was even more bitter than earlier – if that was possible – and he hurried up the driveway to the house. As he passed the tree he saw the initials EM and DS next to the burn mark – so Dex had been right about the Phoenix witch's initial after all, even though he couldn't seem to make up his mind what her actual name was.

Wyatt was about to knock on the bland white front door when it occurred to him that his name and face were pretty well-known in magical circles. If he was going to find Chris through this woman then he needed to be smart about it. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching him, Wyatt quickly glamoured his appearance, making himself shorter, darkening his hair and fattening himself up. When there was no trace of Wyatt Halliwell left, he raised his hand.

The door opened almost instantly, making him stumble back in surprise and almost fall. When he'd regained his balance he looked up to find a teenage girl of about fourteen regarding him suspiciously from underneath a shock of dark red, curly hair. She was dressed in ripped jeans and a short-sleeved t-shirt under a long-sleeved one, and she was visibly chewing gum.

"Um hi, is your mom or dad in?"

She looked him up and down and then dismissed him with a slight sneer. "No."

"Right. Er, do you know when they'll be back?"

"No." The gum went round and round and round. Wyatt fought the urge to ask her to close her mouth.

This wasn't going well. Maybe if he could just establish that he was in the right place, at least…

"Okay, well I'm actually trying to get in touch with a lady who I think used to live here… Erica. Or possibly Emma. Maybe Elisa."

She blew a bubble, the very picture of teenage insolence. "You don't seem very sure."

"Yeah, I, uh, I found this letter and the name was kind of hard to make out…" Wyatt trailed of. "Have you heard any of those names before?"

"Who are you?" the girl asked, slouching against the doorframe, folding her arms across her chest. The movement pulled her long sleeves up and Wyatt caught a flash of a red tattoo on the inside of her left wrist. A rush of excitement shot through him and he forced himself to remain calm.

He laughed. "This probably all sounds kinda weird, huh? Sorry. I'm just trying to trace someone I thought might live here. It's for a school project. We have to investigate our family tree, so dad gave me these old letters and this address was on one of them –"

"You think we're related?" The question visibly disgusted her and Wyatt decided it was time to wrap this up.

"Probably not. It was always a long shot… I'll come back another time when your parents are in."

Without waiting for a reply, he started back down the drive. After a couple of breathless seconds where he could feel the weight of her stare boring into the back of his head, he heard the door slam shut behind him and finally allowed himself to relax.

An energy ball in the face greeted him when he jumped back into the car. "What the hell, Dex?"

"Shit – Wy, that you?"

Wyatt rubbed his singed nose. It felt fuller than normal and he suddenly understood Dex's reaction. "Crap, I forgot."

He removed the glamour sheepishly as Dex rolled his eyes. "Warn a guy next time, alright? Random strangers hop in my car, I blast them. So, was I right?"

"You were right. Still don't know who Emma or Elisa is, but that girl I spoke to? Phoenix witch. I saw the mark."

"Did she _see you _see the mark?"

"Urm…"

"I should stamp on the gas."

"Not a bad idea."

As Dex swung the car out into the road – almost colliding with a horn-happy businessman – he muttered swear words under his breath. "Next time we're travleling by magic."

* * *

Dex was right. When Wyatt returned to the house that evening it was in a flurry of blue and white orbs, with Dex shimmering in behind him. They crouched awkwardly in the bushes for a while, watching the front stoop of the house as the street slowly grew quieter and quieter. Predictably it wasn't long before Dex was shifting his position so much he looked like he was doing some kind of weird, post-modernist dance.

"You don't have to be here," Wyatt murmured, trying to sound diplomatic. He needn't have bothered – Dex's hide was as thick as a rhino's – but ingrained politeness was something he'd inherited from his mom.

"It was this or playing shuffleboard with my nan." Dex mock-shuddered. "Never piss off a 500 year old Banshee, my friend. Auditory bloodbath." He grinned. "Besides, not gonna pass up an opportunity to hook up with old Erica again."

Wyatt wrinkled his nose. "Dex, if this Erica even exists then she'll be what, like, forty? And married. And probably a mom. Probably that girl's mom."

Dex shrugged. "Doesn't change her hotness."

Wyatt stifled a sigh, shifting his weight to relieve the pressure on his aching legs. The ground was hard and cold and a quick glance at his watch told him they'd been here for far too long. Deciding to come in the first place had been a stupid, reckless idea, but he'd been too blinded by finally having a vague link to Chris to notice. Now, lurking in the dark like some kind of predator, shivering, knees beginning to cramp, he was ready to admit defeat. If the girl and her parents were at home, they weren't coming out and there was no way he could knock on the door again, so what was he hoping to –

Headlamps swung across the driveway. Wyatt threw himself to the ground, tugging Dex down with him. They huddled there, barely breathing as the car drew to a halt and the engine quieted. A moment later, there was the sound of the door opening.

Wyatt risked a quick look. A second car had pulled alongside the station wagon – a smart little sports car in some kind of dark paint, maybe blue or black. A figure got out, pulling a briefcase after them. The security light by the garage flicked on, revealing a smartly dressed woman in a dark suit topped by a mane of red hair a couple of shades darker than the girl's. The mother? Wyatt tried to make out her wrist, but frustratingly it was covered by the suit jacket.

"Erica," Dex breathed.

Wyatt jumped – he'd almost forgotten his friend was there. "You sure?"

"Mmm. No mistaking that hair." As the woman approached the house, he made a sound of appreciation. "Or that tight little ass."

"You couldn't even remember her name earlier."

"Definitely Erica. So… what's the plan?"

What was the plan? Erica was going inside and he had no desire to confront a Phoenix witch on home ground. No, best to keep this as under-the-radar as possible, which meant a bit of magical breaking and entering.

"I've got this."

He waited until the woman had disappeared inside the house and then hurried up the drive, keeping low to the ground, until he was crouched down beside the sports car, the car between him and the house. He waited a few moments longer and then rose up so that he could see inside the car. Bingo! A scarf lay and a pair of gloves lay on the passenger seat.

"Scarf," he whispered. The familiar blue and white orbs delivered the scarf into his waiting hand and Wyatt scampered back to where Dex was waiting for him.

"_That's _your grand plan?" Dex's eyebrow rose so high it almost disappeared under his beanie. Stealing her accessories?"

"Scrying," Wyatt corrected. "I can use this to track her movements. If she is a Phoenix witch, maybe she'll lead me straight to Chris."

Dex considered. "You know, that's not a totally shit plan."

"Thanks," Wyatt said wirily.

"What are you gonna do if Chris doesn't want to come back with you?"

The question pulled Wyatt up short. Even though Chris had, by all reports, gone willingly with this Bianca girl, the idea that his little brother wouldn't want to return wasn't something he'd even considered up to now. It had all been about finding Chris and getting him back. What Chris wanted… it had never come up. To have his morally ambiguous half-demon friend be the one to point it out stung.

"I just want to talk to him," Wyatt said finally. "Just talk."

"After all the trouble we've gone through, I'd kick his ass," Dex put in helpfully.

_No_, Wyatt thought, _there's been enough fighting. I need to explain… to make him understand. To apologise._

_I need to fix this._


	2. Chapter Two: Chris

**A/N: **Huge, _huge_, _HUGE_ thank you to everyone who reviewed the first chapter! I'm delighted to say it was the most reviewed chapter of this series so far :) Just to let you know that I have much less of this story planned out and written that I did with OofA, and real life is also a bit hectic, so the updating rate is going to be slower. But I am definitely committed to finishing this story, so don't worry that it will end up as one of the millions of frustrating abandoned-half-way-through ones on this site... it won't!

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**Chapter Two – Chris**

The girl picked her way through the rubble, hands sparkling with a fresh energy ball. Chris readied himself, then rose out of his cover, his own hands held aloft as he reached for the magic inside him, biting down on his lip in anticipation of the pain. Nothing happened. He tried again but the prowling tiger remained out of reach. The girl spotted him and ran forward, drawing her arm back. Chris knew he should run, but his feet were frozen to the floor, hands held uselessly out in front of him, panicking rising inside until it was choking him, he could barely breathe –

"Move!"

The energy bolt blazed past Chris's face, close enough to scorch the skin, and smashed into the wall behind him. Dust and various bits of mortar rained down as he was thrown to the ground, landing hard on his left knee. Wincing, he scrambled behind the cover of a wall and then pulled up his cargo pants with shaking hands. Blood was trickling down his leg from a nasty looking gash, but when he flexed his leg carefully he was glad to see the damage was mostly superficial. He'd been lucky.

"Alright?"

A girl hunkered down beside him, chest heaving. Like Chris she was wearing non-descript fatigues in neutral colours, her long hair pulled back in two bunches to keep it out of her eyes. Her golden skin was dirty and there was a cut above one eyebrow, but her dark eyes were bright with determination.

"You didn't have to push me so hard," he grumbled shakily, pulling his cargo pants back down again and flexing his leg a few more times.

The girl snorted. "If I hadn't, you'd've hurt more than just your knee. Didn't you see Amy approaching? Why didn't you fight back –"

"She caught me by surprise, okay?" Chris shifted his position into a crouch and then peeked over the top of the wall. Amy might not have been hiding before, but she was now. "Where's Bianca?"

"Haven't seen her. Been too busy keeping you alive."

"Liv, give it a rest," Chris growled.

"I should go look for her before she flanks us… think you can manage here?"

She stared at him, challenge in every line of her body, looking unsettlingly like her older sister. Chris bit back a rude word, raised his fist instead, and sent a brief mental prayer up the heavens. After an endless, painful pause, lightning blossomed around his fingers. "I've got this," he gritted out.

Liv didn't look entirely convinced but before she could say anything more, a second energy ball shot down from high above, easily missing the wall. They both ducked.

"What the –"

"I think we've found Bianca – I'll play the bait while you sneak up behind her, yeah? And keep an eye out for Amy too." Liv scampered off, eyes on the sky. A trail of energy balls blazed down from the top of the building opposite, following her progresses as she ran down an alley and disappeared.

Chris unclenched his fist. His hands were trembling, darts of pain were racing up and down his arms and for a moment he thought he might be sick. He thought he'd gotten over this. Over the last week or so he'd finally started making progress with his electrokinesis. The nightmares were lessening and he'd been able to summon and control the power with a reasonable level of success. So why was he failing now?

_You just have to concentrate_, he told himself sternly, recalling what he'd learned. _Concentrate and let it flow through you –_

The words, spoken by his brother's voice, hit him so hard in the gut that he almost doubled over. His elusive might chose that moment to respond, bursting out of him in a flash of blue and white light. The beauty of it and the intoxicating taste of power flowed through Chris and for a moment he wanted to bathe in it, to let it have free reign and screw the consequences.

Then he remembered everything that had happened the last time he'd done that and sanity, such as it was, slowly returned, leaving him feeling weak and ill. It also reminded him that he was in the middle of a battlefield and Liv… she'd asked him to do something. Something about… sneaking up on Bianca?

Grateful for the distraction, Chris poked his head over the top of the wall. Liv had been looking up when she left… there, on the top of the building opposite – he spotted a flash of light as Bianca launched another attack on her sister. It looked like she was on the tenth floor… This was an offensive powers only training sessions, which meant orbing was out, so how the hell was he supposed to 'creep up behind here' up there?

Stairs. There had to be stairs. Inside the building or… there! A fire escape. Perfect. Chris assessed the distance, picking out some potential cover spots should Bianca notice him. Her height gave her a greater strategic advantage sure, but there was what looked like a bus shelter with an overhanging ceiling that offered some level of protection. If he aimed for that…

Chris took a deep breath and shot out of his hiding place, keeping his head down and ducking and weaving as he made his way towards the building. Round the trashcan, jumping over the bench, across the road and he could see it, only metres away, and even better – it would hide him from sight as he approached the fire escape –

The energy ball hit him square on, lifting him up into the air and throwing him backwards like a rag doll. The protective amulets they were all wearing prevented any serious damage, but it still hurt like hell when he hit the ground and there'd be some road rash there he'd be feeling for days. As he lay there, dazed, staring up at the sky, Chris tried to work out where he'd gone wrong. He heard footsteps, drawing nearer, and then a face broke into his line of vision and he realised his mistake.

He'd forgotten about Amy.

It was such a basic error that he actually groaned aloud. Amy raised a disdainful eyebrow and then held out a hand. It wasn't to help him up; it was crackling with magic that she was just itching to shove in his face. He wasn't going to give her the satisfaction.

"You win."

* * *

He learnt later that without his back-up, Liv couldn't get close enough to her sister to make any real impact and Bianca subdued her about ten minutes after Amy had taken him down. Chris lingered in the showers as the others clattered out of the locker room, resting his head against the tiles and just letting the water run down his face. His knee was still throbbing painfully and there was a nasty rash along his right arm, but he knew he'd got off lightly. He should even be able to fix those injuries up when he'd caught his breath… although his Whitelighter powers had been a bit temperamental lately. It seemed the more control he gained over his elecktrokinesis, the more he lost it elsewhere. Nothing in magic was ever easy.

When the water had begun to resemble ice, Chris left the shower and changed into a set of clean clothes. He rubbed his towel over his short hair in a vain attempt to dry it and then followed the girls out into the communal area. It looked a bit like a typical drop-in centre, with couches, a TV, kitchen area and table and chairs, but with a twist: it could only be entered by some form of teleportation and also housed a massive magical training hall that could be changed into whatever form the user wanted. Today it had been a down-town cityscape; last week they'd been training in a forest and a network of caves. Bianca said it was all to do with learning to adapt to different situations and circumstances. Chris wasn't sure when he'd ever be doing any fighting in a forest, but it was definitely helping to sharpen his reflexes. Usually.

Liv and Bianca were gathered in the kitchen and he reluctantly joined them, bracing himself for the onslaught. Liv didn't disappoint. "What's _with _you today?" she complained, wrenching open the fridge and sticking her head inside. Her voice became muffled. "We haven't been beaten like that in ages."

"Yeah you did kind of make it easy for us, Halliwell," Amy agreed from one of the couches. She was flicking idly through a magazine, not a hair out of place. It was like she'd just strolled out of a beauty parlour, not gone through a gruelling magical training session. "Hardly worth getting out of bed."

Liv emerged from the fridge with a bottle of water in one hand, which she proceeded to chug down. "Are you sick? Overworked? Brain dead?" she managed between gulps. When Chris didn't reply, she gave him a critical once-over. "Looks like someone needs extra stamina training."

Amy sniffed. "Well, what do you expect from a _guy_?"

"Don't start that again…" Liv warned, eyes flashing.

"What else can I say when there's all this evidence?" Amy dropped the magazine on the table and stretched languidly before sauntering out of the room, Liv glaring daggers at her back. Once the other girl had gone, she let loose a frustrated noise and slumped down at the kitchen table. "I hate it when we lose to her!"

"Then don't lose to her," Bianca said helpfully from where she was leaning against the kitchen units, running her fingers through her freshly washed thick dark hair.

Liv's glare found a new target. "I didn't _plan _on it…" she growled, "but I can't do _everything_ myself." She reached out and poked Chris's leg with her foot. "Explain."

Chris dodged around her and retrieved his own drink from the fridge. "It's just an off-day."

"Chris, you sucked. You sucked like it was your first time or something. Your magic fritzing out, forgetting about Amy… Explain!"

God, Liv could be annoying. She was kind of like Melinda in that way – _no. No, don't think about that. Not today_.

He slammed the fridge closed with more force than was necessary. "I've got a lot of stuff on my mind, okay?"

"What kind of stuff?" Liv badgered relentlessly, unruffled by his annoyance. If her career as a witch didn't work out, she'd have a hell of a bright future in interrogation.

"Just… stuff." He dropped onto the bench and tugged on the seal of the bottle.

"Stuff like… magical stuff?"

"No."

"Boy stuff?"

"Liv –"

"Bianca stuff?"

"What? No!" Chris turned his head away, aware he was blushing furiously. "Stuff like it's my birthday, okay?"

_That _shut her up. For about a second. "Oh wow, yeah, that one was nowhere near my list of guesses. Happy birthday!"

"Uh, thanks."

"I love birthdays. What, are you like fifteen now or something? Hey Bianca, d'you think Mom would let us have a party?"

"Sixteen."

"Probably not after what happened at Cate's eighteenth… Did you feel any older when you woke up this morning? I always feel older. Which is funny really, I mean, you're only technically one _day_ older than you were the day before, which is the same as any other day in the year –"

"Liv, out."

Liv shot her sister an injured look. "But I was just –"

"Out!" Bianca ordered, taking her little sister by the shoulders and physically pushing her towards the open doorway.

"I'm going, I'm going!" Liv protested, slapping Bianca's hands away. She tossed her empty water bottle in the direction of the recycling can and cheered when it went in. "Hole in one! Hey, make sure he's better by tomorrow, yeah? I'll never live it down if Amy beats me again –"

Bianca shut the door in her sister's face and leant against it, folding her arms across her chest. Chris waited out the silence, sipping from his drink and trying to make his mind blank. It didn't work. It hadn't been working all day.

"You're thinking about your family."

It was a safe bet and Chris didn't bother denying it. He picked at the label on his bottle, defacing the cheery "Summit Spring" logo.

"Chris."

He twisted the strip of paper he'd pulled off around his finger. "Do you blame me?"

"No. Especially not today." Bianca moved closer, settling onto the bench opposite him. Having her this close would normally have done strange things to his pulse, especially with how much golden skin was on display around her halter top and leggings. It was a measure of how distracted he was that it wasn't until she reached forward and closed her hand over his that he really realised she was there. "It's okay, Chris. It's natural. You're only human."

Her long fingers were warm against his. Inexplicably a knot formed in his throat and threatened to choke him. "I just… it's my sixteenth, and I never thought…"

"… You'd be spending it on your own?"

Chris nodded. Bianca turned his hand over and laced her fingers through his. "You're not on your own, Chris."

"I know, but –"

"You don't owe them anything," she continued softly. "They lied to you. They betrayed you."

"They're my family," he whispered.

"They lied to you," she insisted. "What they turned you into – do you remember how that felt?"

_Screaming, terror, pain –_ He pulled away, stung. "How could I forget?"

Bianca inclined her head. "It was wrong. What they did, it was _so_ wrong. They treated you like a child and they took your choices away from you – and all in the name of protection? No, I don't buy it. No one has the right to do that to another person. Especially not someone they call _family_."

The old burning anger he'd been nursing for months sparked back into life, with echoes of 'how could they' and 'why did they' crowding his mind. For once he didn't want to embrace it. "I don't want to talk about this."

"Chris –"

"No, I'm not doing this. Not now. Not today."

Bianca was quiet for a moment. "Okay," she murmured, half to herself. "Okay. Why don't I show you what I got you for your birthday instead?"

The abrupt change of subject caught him off guard. "You got me – you got me a present?"

"I'm a traditionalist." Bianca rifled through her bag and pulled out a neatly wrapped package that she pushed across the table to him. "Here."

Chris picked up the present. The shiny black paper, with its silver and white geometric shapes, reminded him strangely of Bianca.

"Going to open it or just admire it?"

He dug his nails in and ripped the paper along the top of the present. Peeling it back revealed a slender brown box, with a gold catch on one side, that he flicked open after a couple of moments of fumbling.

Inside the box was what Chris first took to be a length of rope. Then he looked more closely and saw it was a length of intricately braided leather, looping around to form a bracelet. In the centre, held in place by several of the dark strands, was an oval stone. It had been polished until it shone under the kitchen's strip lights, throwing off miniature rainbows of colour. As soon as Chris touched it, he felt a jolt of power run up his arm.

"It's a focus stone," Bianca explained into the silence. "You can use it to strengthen spells, or to help with scrying… you can even store magic in it."

Chris lifted the bracelet out and slipped it on. The touch of the crystal against his skin was warm and familiar; it felt like it had always belonged to him.

Bianca shifted in her chair, uncrossing and then re-crossing her legs. "It's not much –"

"It's ace," he breathed, tilting his wrist this way and that, watching the stone cast a glow over the table.

She stopped moving. "Yeah?"

"Hell yeah. How do I…?"

"Just touch it like this when you're casting a spell –" She leaned across the table to demonstrate, fingers pressing against the pulse point of his wrist. All thoughts of his family fled and he was suddenly aware how close she was, how the scent of something spicy seemed to cling to her skin and how if he turned his head to the right slightly he could see the top of her lacy black bra peeking out from underneath her top.

"This is… you didn't have…" That knot was back in his throat and he tried to swallow it. "Thanks," he finished gruffly.

She smiled. "Well, had to give you _something_ to open."

He found himself smirking back, welcoming the return of her biting wit. "Oh so this was a pity present?"

"One hundred percent."

"I'd hate to see what you buy me when you think I'm _really _depressed."

Bianca laughed, a lock of dark hair falling into her eyes. Chris reached out automatically and tucked it back behind her ear, fingers lingering against her cheek as he realised what he was doing. Her hand tightened around the bracelet on his wrist and then suddenly they were kissing and all coherent thought fled. They'd kissed briefly a couple of times over the last several weeks, but there was something more to this, something deeper. Bianca's free hand found its way under his t-shirt as her lips opened and he tasted the cherry of her lip balm. He groaned into her mouth, wishing that the table wasn't between them so he could feel her pressed against him.

Pleasure overrode all the memories, lingering guilt and anger, and Chris gladly whited-out for a while. When they finally drew apart, he felt like he was walking on air. Bianca, on the other hand, looked tense and shaken.

"What is it?"

Just for a second something revealing flashed through her eyes, but before she could offer any explanation a loud voice interrupted them.

"Biaaaaanca! _Bianca_! Mom wants you and Chris!"

Bianca pulled back as if scolded, just as the door flew open and Liv appeared. "Don't know why _I _have to play messenger…" she complained. "Mom wants to see you and Chris."

"I heard." Bianca rose without looking at Chris and moved to join her sister. "Did she say why?"

Liv shrugged. "I'm just the carrier pigeon. Had to come back to get my bag anyway 'cos _someone_ shoved me out so quickly I left it behind." She slipped around Bianca and reclaimed the aforementioned purple bag, bulging with a fluffy white towel and her training clothes, from its spot on the couch. There was a little stuffed lion swinging from one of the handles that got squished against Liv's arm when she shouldered the bag. "Done my good deed for the day. If anyone asks, me and Cate are going to the movies. Laters."

She disappeared as quickly as she'd arrived, leaving an awkward silence. Chris studied Bianca's stiff back and tried to work out what he'd done wrong.

"Are you okay?" he ventured finally, grimacing inwardly at how lame that sounded. He'd never been good at this romantic stuff at the best of times, and especially not when his brain was still insisting on flashing back to the sensation of her lips on his.

"Why wouldn't I be? We'd better go – Mom likes punctuality."

She was halfway out of the door before Chris had even stood. "Hey, Bianca?"

"What?"

Her composure had snapped right back into place and she was like the Bianca he'd first met back on the school campus, all sharp angles and cutting retorts and mocking smiles. The natural warmth between them had gone and somehow that loss made him feel more alone than ever.

"Forget it. Let's go."


	3. Chapter Three: Wyatt

**A/N: **Hello all and thanks to everyone who's been reviewing! It's great to know you're enjoying the story so far :) Now there's been an interesting debate going on about the ability of Whitelighters to self-heal, so I wanted to weigh in with my opinion. It seems like even the writers/producers of Charmed couldn't agree because there are contradictions about it in the TV show. Originally it's stated that Whitelighters can't self-heal, but then in 4x17 Leo heals himself when he's stabbed with a kitchen knife. This led to an interpretation I found that stated that while Whitelighters can't heal wounds caused by magical weapons, like Darklighter arrows, they can heal wounds caused by mortal ones, like the kitchen knife. And that's what I decided to go with in this story.

In other news: Dex is quickly becoming my new favourite character :)

* * *

**Chapter Three: Wyatt**

"I'm bored."

"Yeah you said."

"Wyatt… I'm bored. This is boring."

"I _know_."

"And I'm bored."

"… You could always go home."

"Seriously? Wy, you've seen where I live."

"It's not that bad."

"It's a dump."

"So get a better place."

"On my salary?"

"Dex, you don't have a job."

"I do so have a – it's just the money coming in is a bit too uneven for most landlords. I had this wicked place once, back in the fifties… man, the girls loved it. They fell at my feet, just begging for a look inside the bedroom."

"How do you not have a trail of bastard offspring following you around…?"

"Well, my young apprentice, there's this new-fangled thing called a condom –"

"Oh, piss off."

" – which means your little helpers can't make their way into the land of milk and honey –"

"Dex, I swear –"

"Alright, alright, keep your wig on. Just don't blame me when there are loads of little Halliwells orbing their way all over the planet…"

Wyatt ignored him, intent on the empty car across the street. Beside him, Dex stretched in a theatrical manner and then smacked his lips together. "Still bored," he declared, reaching forward and yanking open the glove box. "Haven't you got any snacks in this old tin can?"

"You ate them all," Wyatt reminded him, tossing a look behind at the back seat, which was littered with empty packets. Dex followed his gaze. "Huh. Yeah, so I did. You know, I'll give you some money for that. Eventually."

"I won't hold my breath."

"Seriously! There's a big game coming up and…" He cracked his knuckles. "I'm feeling lucky. Hey, you should come!"

Wyatt snorted. "Gambling? Yeah that'd go down well at home."

"I thought you said it was all screwed to hell and your folks wouldn't notice if you stripped naked and danced a jig in front of them?"

Wyatt glared at the half-demon. "Kind of missing the point, Dex."

Dex held up his hands. "I'm just saying. You, me, Macy's, Friday night."

"Busy."

"What, sitting on your ass staring at some soccer mom's car?"

"Trying to find my brother," Wyatt ground out.

"By staring at Soccer Mom's car."

Wyatt's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Dex, seriously –"

"Just trying to lighten the mood, Wy. I know why we're here." Dex slumped back into his chair. "Doesn't stop me being bored though."

Wyatt let the comment slip past, intent on the car. He'd been tracking Erica the Phoenix Witch for the last week, scrying for her whenever he wasn't at school and slowly building up a pattern of her movements. She'd come here, to this building, enough times to pique his interest and that weekend he'd decided to follow her for real. He'd been hopeful she'd led him to the Phoenix's lair, but now that they'd been sat outside the unremarkable hall for almost an hour, Wyatt was beginning to have second thoughts.

"Are you sure old Erica's in there?" The words were barely distinguishable. Dex had found a packet of peanuts from somewhere and was happily shovelling them down his throat.

"That's her car. And this is where the crystal said she was so… yeah. I'm pretty sure she's in there."

Dex chewed thoughtfully. "Doesn't look like much of a super-secret base. Where are the turrets and the barbed wire? Disappointing. No one puts any effort in these days."

"They're hardly going to advertise it," Wyatt pointed out with as much patience as he could muster. "Wouldn't be much of a secret base then."

Dex threw a peanut up in the air. It bounced off his chin and disappeared somewhere into the depths of the car. "True. Still, a turret would've been nice – hey, check it out. Crazy bitch at twelve o'clock."

The door of the hall had opened and a mixture of adults and children were spilling out. In the midst of the group was the familiar figure of Erica. She was looking back over her shoulder, talking to someone else – someone who was scowling and dragging her feet. Wyatt recognised that sour face instantly.

"She's with her daughter."

"Yeah?" Dex straightened in the passenger seat, peanuts momentarily forgotten. "Is she as hot as her mom? Though hopefully less of the crazy."

"Dex, you're like a hundred years too old for her."

"Alright, no need to rub it in. Jeez. You try and do a guy a favour…"

"You know, I didn't actually _ask _you to come with me today.

"So ungrateful," the half-demon sniffed. "You try and do a guy a favour and he just _throws_ it back in your face…"

Wyatt smiled despite himself, hiding it behind his hand. Dex didn't need the encouragement. Outside, Erica and the girl he assumed was her daughter had reached the car. They seemed to be arguing about something if Erica's crossed arms and the girl's sullen pout were anything to go by. After a heated exchange, Erica wrenched open the car door and ordered her daughter inside, at which point the daughter flipped her mom off and stalked back towards the building. Erica shouted something after her, hesitated and then ducked into the car, slamming the door with a bang. She screeched out of the car park, almost knocking over a pair of young guys walking with another parent. Her daughter waited defiantly until Mom was out of sight and then slumped down onto the hall's steps.

Wyatt turned the keys in the ignition, ready to follow Erica, but then paused. The girl was just sitting there. It was too good an opportunity to ignore.

"We're not following?"

"Gimme a minute."

Dex lasted about ten seconds before he started squirming like a five year old who needed a pee. "Hope you brought your scrying crystal, 'cos Erica's _long_ gone."

"Her daughter isn't." Wyatt made up his mind. "Find out what you can from her."

"Ah, yeah. You know, that's not a totally stupid – wait, what? Me?"

"I've already met her and it –" Wyatt winced. "It wasn't pretty."

Dex opened his mouth as if to protest, took another long look at the girl and then snapped it shut again. "Here's hoping she's not so buckets-of-crazy as her mom." He pulled down the sun visor and checked his reflection, mussing his hair up and pulling his glasses down his nose slightly. "Cover me, I'm going in," he announced in a silly voice.

"You're a dick," Wyatt told him.

Dex flashed him a grin and then was out the car, strolling across the road and up to the girl. As Wyatt watched, hoping he hadn't made a big mistake, Dex settled onto the steps beside the girl and attempted to strike up a conversation. After a few moments were the girl attempted to look disinterested, she relaxed, kicking her legs out and crossing her boots at the ankles. Within minutes she was laughing and twirling a lock of red hair around one finger. Wyatt shook his head in amazement. He should have known better than to doubt Dex when it came to women.

Ten minutes later, the girl left, face less sour and chewing gum firmly in place, and Dex strutted back across to the car.

"Natasha Mesarrio," he reported, dropping into the passenger seat, a self-satisfied smirk in place. "Tasha to her friends. Five four, 34 D, natural redhead, likes music with lots of swearwords and is kinda pissed at her mom right now."

Wyatt shook his head. "You got her _bra_ _size_ –?"

"Got more than that, my friend." Dex whipped out his mobile phone with a flourish and waggled it in Wyatt's face. "I'm well in there."

"Did you get anything useful?"

Dex chewed his lip. "Well, that's not the Phoenix HQ. Turns out Tasha is in some kind of 'lame ass show' so all the time Mommy Erica's been spending here? Rehearsals."

Wyatt swore and slammed his hand on the steering wheel, narrowly avoiding the horn. "So it was a waste of time."

"Not totally…I said she's pissed at her mom, right? Well, she was an angry little goldmine of information, 'specially when I showed her my magical powers."

"God, I hope that's not a euphemism."

Dex laughed. "Gimme some credit. It's the middle of the day – kids could see! Nah, we just bonded over our mutually screwed up families. Turns out the reason following Erica's been such a bust is she's not exactly in the family good books right now. Or, well, ever. Doesn't want her daughter to follow in the grand old tradition of assassination. Doesn't want her daughter doing magic, _period_."

"Great," Wyatt sighed, feeling suddenly old and impossibly weary. "Trust me to pick the one Phoenix witch who's gone straight."

"Yeah, okay, so Erica's a bust, but Tash… Tash I can work on. She's our way in, my friend."

"How d'you figure that?"

"What woman can resist this?" Dex traced the shape of his face. "Besides, I told her you'd teach her magic."

Wyatt stared at his friend, trying to work out if he'd misheard. "You… what?"

"Said you'd teach her magic. She jumped at that – get back at her mom _and_ learn proper magic? Deal done."

"No," Wyatt said flatly, mind racing. "No way."

"C'mon, Wy, it's the perfect –"

"_No_."

Dex huffed and flopped back in his car seat. "You know, you're not being very practical about this. I thought you'd do anything to get baby brother back?"

It was a low blow and Wyatt actually flinched. "There are some lines you don't cross," he said through gritted teeth. "Trained or not, she's from a family of assassin witches, Dex. Team Evil 101. There's no way I'm gonna make her any more dangerous than she already is."

"What, so just 'cos someone's parents are evil, they are too?" All Dex's good humour had gone in a flash. "Narrow-minded, much?"

"That's not what I –"

" 'Cos in case you forgot, my mom's not exactly squeaky clean in that department. Yet you don't seem to mind hanging out with me when it suits you."

Things were quickly spiralling out of control and Wyatt fought to pull them back. "You're twisting my words. It's not like I'm teaching you magic, for God's sake."

"No," Dex allowed with a sniff. "Still, nice to know what you really think of me."

"You know it's not like that." Wyatt fumbled for something to say to make this all better. "We're friends."

Dex gave him a long, unreadable look. "Yeah, well. Let me know if you change your mind about Tash."

He shimmered out before Wyatt could stop him.

* * *

The conversation with Dex left a sour taste in Wyatt's mouth for the rest of the day. As much as the half-demon annoyed him at times, underneath all the bluster Dex was a good guy. A good friend, who'd helped Wyatt without being asked. To have things end like that wasn't fair. He'd ring Dex later, he decided, and apologise.

Wyatt slipped back into the manor. "Mom? I'm home." He'd told her earlier that he was meeting a friend, purposefully keeping the details vague. Two months ago she'd have demanded a full itinerary of his movements. This morning she'd just wished him a distracted goodbye.

When his greeting went unanswered, Wyatt headed towards the kitchen. It was where Mom seemed to spend most of her time these days. The freezer was bursting with more food than even the Halliwell horde could eat, but it didn't stop her from making more. But not today. There was no delicious smell on the air and when he stuck his head around the doorframe, it was to find the room was empty.

Maybe she was out. But there was no note on the table and Mom _always_ left a note so… upstairs then. He trudged up the wide staircase and passed Chris's room, feeling a pang in his gut at the sight of the closed door. Mom and Dad's room was next, but the door was ajar and he could already tell there was no one there. The slightest flutter of panic started to brew and he raced up the stairs to the attic, taking them two at a time.

Mom was sitting in an old wicker chair facing the bay window, save and sound. Feeling foolish, Wyatt caught his breath and then headed towards her. "Hi, Mom…"

He trailed off. There was a large book lying open on Mom's lap and her fingers were stroking the left-hand page restlessly. She didn't appear to have noticed him.

"Mom?"

He circled the chair to get a better look, but faltered when he saw what the long, dark hair framing her face had been concealing. She was crying. No, not just crying. Crying in that horrible, quiet way that said the tears had been falling for a while.

Wyatt had never seen his mom cry before. Oh sure, there had been times when she'd been upset or frightened, but even when Chris had been attacked he hadn't seen her cry. To see her now, all hunched over and broken, brought the fear from earlier rushing back. He'd lost Chris, his dad, Melinda – he couldn't afford to lose his mom too.

He knelt down in front of her and took her hands. "Mom, look at me."

It took a few breaths, but she eventually raised her dark eyes to meet his.

"Mom, it'll be okay."

"Wyatt…?" she murmured, gaze slowly sharpening.

He smiled. "Yeah, it's me. It's okay, Mom, I'm here."

"You're home…" She straightened, pulling her hands free to wipe her cheeks and rearrange her hair. "You should be at school. Why aren't you at school?"

"It's the weekend –"

She went to stand, ignoring Wyatt's outstretched hands. "Your sister should be home by now... can you go and find her? I need to –" The book on her lap slipped off and hit the floor with a dull thump. Photographs spilled across the floorboards and Wyatt found himself staring down at the grinning face of his little brother. Chris's hair was swept back, as if he was standing in a strong wind, and he was laughing, face alight with a genuine joy that Wyatt hadn't seen since… well, he couldn't remember when. This was Chris as he had been once, before the dreaded teenage years. Before adolescence kicked in. Before Warren Trent had shoved a knife in his stomach and everything had changed forever.

Mom dropped to her knees, scrambling for the errant photos, fingernails scraping painfully against the floorboards. Wyatt joined her. "Mom, let me –"

"No!" she cried, power exploding from her hands. Wyatt flew backwards, cracking his head on the old wooden table. Stars danced in front of his eyes and he rubbed the spot gingerly, before clambering to his feet. His mom was staring at him with wide, frightened eyes, the remains of the photographs scattered in burning fragments around her.

It was a split-second decision – not like him, really – but it felt right. Overriding his mom's stammered apologies, Wyatt got her sitting back down in the chair and then orbed out, reappearing in a dark-panelled room in Magic School. A fire was crackling away in the big open fire place and bookcases lined the walls, packed with dusty, ancient tombs. At one end stood an old fashioned wooden desk and behind it, his dad, looking up, a frown wrinkling his forehead.

"Wyatt? What are you –"

"Mom needs you," Wyatt said without preamble.

His dad's expression grew guarded. "Your mom and I… I think it's best if we give each other some space right now."

"Yeah, 'cos that's been working out so well for you," Wyatt retorted, shocked by his own sarcasm. The sight of his mom crying had knocked him off balance and he took a breath to gather himself. "This has been going on too long. I don't care what's happened between you – she needs you now." He held out his hand.

Dad hesitated, then reached out slowly and laid his fingers on Wyatt's palm. The instant he made contact, Wyatt was orbing them back to the attic. When confronted with the might of his wife, huddled over in the chair, arms wrapped around her knees, Dad went to her immediately. He put his arms around her and while Mom stiffened and tried to pull away at first, Dad persisted. He was murmuring something Wyatt couldn't catch and then Mom was returning the embrace, burying her head in his chest, her shoulders trembling.

It was the first time he'd seen his parents together since Chris's disappearance. There was still a hell of a long way to go, but maybe, just maybe, he was witnessing the first steps towards reconciliation. At least, as much of a one as there could be, with Chris still missing.

The thought gave him pause. Mom and Dad… they'd never be able to move past this while Chris was still out there. Their grief was too destructive, too all-consuming and this was just a moment of calm – a good one, sure, but not anything permanent. Come tomorrow and Mom would be back to trying to pretend it was all business as usual and Dad would be back to burying himself in his work. The hole in their lives would still be there until Chris was found.

Until Chris was found.

Giving them some privacy, Wyatt back out of the room and padded down the attic steps. Once in the relative safety of his room, behind a closed door, he pulled his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and placed a call, keeping his voice low.

"Dex? It's Wyatt. Yeah, I know all about caller ID – look, I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't… Yeah. I shouldn't have said – no. No, I know, mate. Listen… I'll do it. The teaching. So, can you set up a meeting? Yeah, I'm sure. You were right – Chris… I have to find him and if this is the quickest way – okay. Okay, yeah, let me know. Thanks, mate."

Dex phoned back half an hour later and the date and time were set. As Wyatt hung up, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Blond curls in disarray. Pale skin and wide blue eyes. A general air of desperation, mixed with determination.

He hoped he hadn't just made a huge mistake.


	4. Chapter Four: Chris

**A/N: **So I wasn't planning to update this story any more – for those who don't know, I've been focusing on my original fiction lately – but a couple of recent reviews got me thinking about it again and this is the result. I hope it's okay… this was a hell of a tricky chapter to write and I'd love to get some feedback.

* * *

**Chapter Four: Chris**

Chris woke screaming.

For a moment he sat there, panting, limp strands of hair obscuring his eyes, unable to remember where he was. Then the cream walls of the room came into focus, decorated with those familiar colourful tapestries and he sagged back against a pillow that was damp with sweat. Bianca's house. He was at Bianca's house, in her spare room – the same place he'd been every night for the last several weeks.

He closed his eyes and tried to calm down. It wasn't easy. Fragments of the dream kept resurfacing – Warren Trent's tortured face, the pain of the magic ripping out of him, the glee when he'd finally given into it – _no_! While he was awake he could mostly block the images and sounds out, but his subconscious was free to run riot when he was asleep, taking him back, again and again, to that evening.

A gentle knock on the door heralded the entrance of a slim, unassuming woman with short blonde hair and a kind smile. Lin Everett was Bianca's mother and Chris rather liked her – well, as much as he liked any adult. That evening he'd rocked up out of the blue, drunk, stinking of fear and cigarettes, she'd taken one look at him and calmly asked Bianca to make up the spare room. There had been no questions, no censure; just the steady acceptance he'd so desperately needed.

"Nightmare?" she asked now, closing the door gently behind her.

Flushing darkly, Chris rearrange his duvet so it covered him. "I guess." Realising that sounded kind of rude, he added a muttered, "Sorry for, er, waking you up."

She dismissed his concerns with a wave of her hand. "I was awake anyhow and the girls sleep like their lives depend on it so I doubt you've troubled them." She smiled and settled on the edge of his bed, folding her dark red dressing gown neatly over her knees and straightening the tie. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I'm okay." Chris reached for the glass of water from his bedside table, but his trembling hands betrayed him, droplets spilling onto the bed sheet. Lin took it from him without comment and waited until he had composed himself again.

"It can help," she prompted finally. "Talking, I mean."

"I don't…" Chris cleared his throat and tried again. "I'm okay."

Lin smiled slightly. "Talking makes it real, huh?"

He bowed his head and mumbled something that might have been agreement.

"Okay, well how about I talk instead?" The bed creaked as she shifted her weight. "I've been meaning to anyway, since you came to us. I didn't quite imagine the conversation to happen in the middle of the night," she added, humour tingeing her voice, "but I suppose it's as good a time as any." She paused. "Chris, I know you've been through a terrible time, but you need to know that it wasn't your fault. What happened at your school was an accident. A horrible, tragic accident, but an accident nonetheless. No one could have predicted that your new power would awaken like that, let alone you so you have to stop blaming yourself for something that you couldn't control. You have to let the guilt go before it consumes you."

She made it sound so easy, like he could just flip a switch and _bam_ – everything would be back to normal. He'd _killed_ people. Life would never be normal again.

"I'm not saying it will happen overnight, but acceptance is the first step towards healing. It will be a difficult path but I promise, we'll be there to help you if you'll just let us. I've been told I'm a good listener, so please, let me listen. Let me help. I can –"

"Stop talking like you know what I'm going through!" Chris flared. "You don't know anything so you can't just… you can't just sit there, spouting off all this crap about forgiving and listening –" He swung his legs around, feet hitting the carpeted floor with a satisfying thump.

Lin leaned forward. "Chris, I _do _understand –"

"No! No, you don't! You can't – you haven't, so you can't, okay? I feel this – this giant _hole_ inside, eating away at me and I can't, I can't breathe it's getting so big."

He stood up suddenly, needing to move. Lin's spare bedroom was quite large, with a bay window at one end, and he went to stand in it, gulping in a lungful of the crisp, fresh air that was flowing through the open window he'd opened before he went to bed. His eyes were wet but he refused to let the tears fall. He hated to cry in front of other people – it made him look so weak and pathetic.

Behind him, Linn was quiet for several minutes, patiently waiting for him to regain his composure. When his shoulders had finally stopped shaking, she asked, "What do you know about us? What we do, I mean."

He wanted to ignore her, but the abrupt change in subject threw him and he found himself searching for an answer. "Um… you train witches?"

Lin smiled faintly. "That's part of it, true. This is the other part." She pulled up the sleeve of her dressing gown and turned over her wrist. Despite himself, Chris squinted at it. There was a red birthmark there, in the shape of... it looked like some kind of bird? Bianca had one too, he recalled distantly; Chris had meant to ask her about it, but he'd had other things on his mind lately.

"You've heard us referred to as the Phoenix witches, right?"

Chris nodded slowly. "I figured it was just... I dunno. A surname or something?"

"Well it may have been once," Lin agreed, "but not now. Now it's our clan name."

Their clan name. They were a clan? Chris had known, vaguely, that a lot of the people he'd met since coming here had been related. Bianca and Liv were sisters, Lin was their mom and Amy was their cousin. But a clan?

"How many of you are there?" he blurted.

Lin laughed. "Not hundreds, don't worry. You won't have to meet us all! Maybe... ten or so family groups spread out across America, but most of the time we all handle our own affairs."

"Oh, okay."

"The one time we do come together is for work." She watched him carefully, as if looking for something. Chris began to feel uncomfortable by the scrutiny and after a few breaths Lin sighed and dropped her gaze. "I thought Bianca might have told you, but apparently not. You see, Chris, I do understand how you're feeling right now. I understand because I've felt it too."

"You've..." The words got stuck in Chris's throat and he coughed to clear it. "... You've killed someone?"

"Yes."

Her simple admission was almost more shocking than a big revelation would have been. Lin, Bianca's mom, a middle-aged suburban housewife, had killed someone?

"Was it an accident?"

"No."

"Self-defence?" he asked, clutching at straws.

She shook her head and something painful twisted in his gut. So that made it... murder. Lin had murdered someone – just like him.

"Who was it? What was their name?"

"I can't remember. Not any of them," Lin admitted quietly. "It was – a long time ago and I… it wasn't like it was with you. But I know how it can tear you up inside. The guilt, the shame, the disgust…" Her voice trailed off and the room fell into silence, only broken by the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. "Traditionally, the Phoenix witches are assassins," Lin continued finally. "For centuries, we were hired for our talent for killing. This was the world in which I was raised."

Assassins. Chris didn't know what to make of that. It was one thing to take a life by accident, but on purpose? What did this mean?

"Has Bianca –"

"No," Lin interrupted with a decisive wave of her hand. "When Bianca was a child, I had a – someone made me consider what I would say to my children when they asked me what it felt like to kill. And I realised I couldn't lie. And that I never wanted my children to be in a position where they had to lie to _their_ children. So, I set about changing things. I wasn't an easy journey, but I think it was the right decision."

"…Why are you telling me all this?" he asked woodenly, thoughts churning.

"I want to be honest with you, Chris," she said simply. "You've been faced with too many lies already and you don't deserve anymore. I would have told you sooner, but it's not the easiest subject to bring up."

The Phoenix witches were assassins, Bianca's mom had killed someone and they'd told him, just like that. The clues had been there, of course, in the magic they used and the powers they had, but he'd chosen to ignore it. To have it confirmed now should have sent him into a defensive fury, but the honesty disarmed him of any anger or disgust and he just felt numb.

"… Are you evil?"

Lin sighed and looked down at where her hands were clasped in her lap. "Good and evil is a very black and white way of looking at what is, largely, a grey world. But if you want it to be judged in those terms then I would say that we're neutral. Some of our clients are demons, it's true, but some are witches just like you. We offer a service, nothing more."

"A service that includes killing."

"Very rarely, nowadays I'm happy to say. Information gathering is more our line of work now – spying and reconnaissance and such."

"But you do still kill."

"When we have to, to protect ourselves or eliminate a threat. But Chris, are your family really any different?"

Angry denials rose to his lips, but he hesitated to speak them. If you looked at it in the purely black and white terms Lin had mentioned then no, his family really were no different. Whatever their reasons, they look lives.

"They vanquish demons," he argued uncertainly.

"Agreed. But demons have lives too. Can you honestly say that all the ones you've met have been hostile towards you, towards innocents? Weren't some simply trying to live their lives in peace?"

He'd never thought about it like that before. He'd been raised to believe in the whole Good versus Evil thing; that demons were evil and had to be vanquished, full stop. But demons having lives? Demons being innocent? If you looked at the Halliwells from a demon's point of view, would it be just the same as looking at demons from the Halliwells'?

"I can see this is a bit too much for this early in the morning," Lin said, patting his ankle before rising. "Why don't we leave things here for now and then if you have any more questions, we can talk tomorrow, okay?"

Chris watched as she walked towards the door. "Um, Miss Everett?" She looked back enquiringly. "Thanks for telling me the truth," he muttered, flushing.

"Of course, dear."

* * *

The conversation with Lin preyed on Chris's mind for the rest of that day. He tried to keep himself distracted, but it was a so called "free day", with no practices or magical training of any kind. Amy and Liv had gone shopping, sniping at each other with a kind of gleeful abandon and Bianca was in a meeting with her mom and a couple of aunts. It left Chris to drift around the house and training centre like an aimless ghost. He longed to go outside, but he knew that the moment he did he'd pop back onto his family's magical radar and honestly, a confrontation with them might just finish him off right now. So he settled on the sofa instead and tried to numb his mind with some trashy daytime TV.

He was onto his fifth re-run of one of those ancient Jerry Springer shows, when something in his pocket vibrated. Twisting over onto one hip, he dug out his mobile and squinted at the screen, expecting another text message. It wasn't though. It was a reminder, about Emily's birthday. He could remember her entering the date in his phone's calendar after he'd forgotten the previous year.

His friends. God, he'd totally blanked them and they didn't even have anything to do with the magical world. He should speak to them; make sure they knew he wasn't lying dead in a ditch somewhere.

He dialled Emily's number before he could change his mind. The phone rang three times before she picked up. "What?"

The distinctly unwelcoming greeting didn't faze him – it was a common Emily trait. If anything, the familiarity of her voice made him begin to smile. "Hey, Em."

"Chris?" There was a brief pause and then she sucked in a noisy breath. Chris braced himself just in time. "Where the hell have you _been_? You vanish, like a – a fucking genie in a cloud of smoke, then you phone me up and you're all, like, 'hey, Em' as if nothing's happened, you little bastard –"

Chris held the phone away from his ear and let her rant. When she finally came up for air, he said, "So I guess you missed me, huh?"

"Like a hole in the head," she retorted without missing a beat. "Or a wart on my foot. Or a fungus in my –"

"Yeah, yeah, picture getting loud and clear."

"Don't get pissy with me, Halliwell," she warned. "You don't get to do that, not after fucking off without a word."

Chris shifted awkwardly, an unexpected rush of guilt surging through him. In all of this, he'd never considered how his actions might affect his friends. "Yeah, um, sorry about that. Things just got… complicated. Family things."

"We figured _that_ out quickly enough. Devon asked Captain Perfect where you were and almost got his head bitten off. The Boy Wonder's been out of it for weeks – some guy in the year below started mouthing off about what happened to Warren and ended up in the nurse's office."

The mention of his brother brought some uncomfortable memories back of the last time he'd seen him. Wyatt, writhing on the floor in agony; Melinda's accusations ringing in his ears; the fear that he'd just added another name to the list of the dead. He hadn't, he'd learned later, but it had been close. Too close. Despite everything, Chris had been sick with relief at the news. Having that on his conscience would have broken him.

"So then we tried your house, but all Devon managed to get out of – I think it was one of your aunts? – was that you'd come back to school too soon and had some kind of relapse," Emily finished. "Is that really what happened?"

So that was the party line they were all trotting out. As good as any, Chris supposed. "Yeah," he hedged. "I wasn't ready."

"Okay… so why wouldn't they let us see you, huh? It's been over a month, Chris. Over a _month._ I know what happened was totally shitty, but –"

"I'm not at the manor right now," he cut her off quickly. "They sent me to stay with some family – out of state. Everything back home just reminded me of – of the accident." The lie tripped too easily off his tongue. God, what was his life like if lying to his friends had become second nature?

"Uh huh." Emily still sounded a bit dubious. "So when'll you be back?"

"Not sure. I'm getting better, but it's – it's complicated." He didn't add that he wasn't sure he'd ever be coming back.

"Always is with you," she muttered.

"Keeps life interesting," Chris joked weakly.

"Mmm." He couldn't tell if that was a sound of agreement or not. "Well, least I can tell Devon you're still alive now. He'll be disappointed of course seeing as how I won the bet."

"You bet on if I was _dead_ or not?"

"We bet on who you'd ring first," Emily corrected. "He was convinced it'd be him –" She dropped her voice to mimic their friend, " – _it's a guy thing, Em, you wouldn't understand. Plus, I'm higher up in his contacts list than you are_ – but I knew you'd pick me," she concluded smugly, voice returning to normal. "You like me more."

Taking bets was just such an Emily and Devon thing to do that Chris started laughing, and once he'd started he couldn't stop. He couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed, or even smiled without it being forced. He should have rung his friends earlier.

They chatted for a while, sticking to safe topics, and it was only after Chris had hung up that he realised he'd forgotten to wish her a happy birthday. Slapping himself on the forehead, he quickly sent a text and then cradled his phone in his hands.

God, he missed them. He hadn't realised how much until hearing Emily's voice and the pang of homesickness that struck him was overwhelming. There'd been times when he doubted his decision to join the Phoenix over the last few weeks, but this, combined with what Lin had told him, was bringing it all flooding to the surface. Was being here really the right thing?

The door thudded against the wall behind him and he glanced over the back of the sofa to see Bianca had come into the room. Today she was wearing jeans that hugged her curves and a tight green jumper. Her glorious hair had been pulled back into a messy knot and strands hung loose around her face.

"Hey."

She sauntered across the room to join him, bracing herself on the back of the sofa. Her perfume, something light and spicy filled his nose and he drank it in.

"Who was that?"

"Emily? Friend from school. It's her birthday, so…"

"I heard."

It was difficult to tell what she was thinking and he felt compelled to explain, "Figured I should make contact – it's been ages and she was worried."

"Does she know…?"

"About magic? No. She'd never believe it anyway." He stretched out his arms along the back of the sofa. "I'm not sure if I should be here," he confessed abruptly. "Emily and Devon –"

Bianca came to perch on the end of the sofa beside him. "Don't you think it's safer that you are? Safer for all your mortal friends? Until you can completely control your gifts… do you really want to be responsible for hurting them too?"

Like he'd hurt Warren, Jake and Austin. Like he'd hurt Wyatt. God… Chris squeezed his eyes shut. How could he be so naïve? He'd come here for reasons beyond just rebelling against his family's lies and deception. He'd come here to learn how to control his magic – to stop himself from killing anyone else. A little homesickness and he'd been ready to give up and run back home with his tail between his legs, risking God knows how many people… pathetic.

"Chris, I know it's hard but you're doing the right thing. Trust me." When he didn't reply, she reached out and gripped his chin gently, tilting his face up to hers. "I helped you find out the truth about what happened and I've never lied to you, have I? Not like _them_. So why don't you trust me?"

He felt himself being draw into the liquid pools of her eyes. "I do trust you."

"Good." Her lips parted into a smile and he loved that he was the one who'd brought it to her face. "I'm glad, you know."

Chris frowned. "Erm, glad I trust you…?"

"That Emily's not your girlfriend or anything."

Her fingers were stroking the back of his neck now. Chris swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. "Just a friend," he managed. "Like a sister really."

"Mmm."

"I, uh, kind of thought that position might have been… filled," Chris added daringly, not quite able to meet her intense gaze.

"Did you now."

"Was I wrong?" he asked, mouth dry.

"Not necessarily." Her fingers moved up into his hair. "I guess it depends on what you thought of Mom's big revelation." The words dragged Chris's attention abruptly away from the feeling of her touch. "Who we are, the fact that I can do this –" She held up her free hand and conjured an energy ball. "Is it a deal breaker?"

And that was it: decision time. Part of Chris begged for more time to sort everything out in his head, to really process the significance of what Lin had told him. The other part argued that the Phoenix had welcomed him as one of their own, had been upfront about their past and hadn't judged him for anything he'd done. And they had Bianca and Bianca… was Bianca.

"I think I kind of already knew," he admitted finally, "but I sort of ignored it because I had so many other things screwing up my head and… well, it just didn't seem that important. I needed help and you helped me – that should be all there is to it."

"Is it? You know, technically we're dark witches. Mom might have rung in the changes, but that's a fact that'll never change."

"You've never done anything to hurt me," Chris said slowly. "This whole Good/Evil thing… maybe everything's not as black and white as I always thought, I dunno. I've still got to work some things out."

Bianca closed her fingers around the energy ball, extinguishing it. "Fair enough. Just promise you'll keep an open mind, okay? We're not monsters, no matter what box certain people try to force us into."

"Wait –" He jumped up and caught her arm and pulled her back to him. Standing, they were almost the same height. "I know you're not a monster. I never thought – you're _amazing_, Bianca."

"Amazing?" She quirked an eyebrow. "I like the sound of that."

"Well… you are."

"Not so bad yourself, Halliwell."

Chris snorted. "I'm a mess."

"Maybe I like a challenge."

"Oh you'll get one, trust me."

"Then," she murmured, "the answer is 'yes'."

She kissed him and he kissed her back and everything else became insignificant.

Watching unnoticed from the open doorway behind them, Lin smiled coldly.


	5. Chapter Five: Wyatt

**A/N: **I'm quite pleased with how this chapter turned out, particularly after a few weeks of writer's block. I feel like I'm back on track again now, for the next few chapters at least.

I should warn you that there's a copious amount of swearing in this chapter, so if that offends you then look away now. It's not something I advocate, but I do think it makes conversations, particularly heated ones, much more realistic.

* * *

**Chapter Five: Wyatt**

Wyatt eyed the gum circling Tash Messario's mouth and tried to resist the urge to orb it into the nearest trashcan.

He had to admire her commitment to the cause. She'd been chewing that same piece of gum since she'd arrived, over half an hour ago. All through his careful explanation about how he was willing to teach her basic spells and potion making, but couldn't – _wouldn't_ – help with her active powers, it had been going round and round and round, neon pink against the white of her teeth. How could she chew for so long without getting jaw ache?

As he trailed off, she turned, hands finding her hips. "You won't teach me how to use my powers? Then what the fuck am I doing here?"

"Learning magic," Wyatt returned shortly, his patience waning. "If you don't want to then please, feel free to go."

She gave him a mulish look, but plopped down onto the sagging couch. "Go for it, Teach."

The ripped jeans, black t-shirt and whole too-cool-for-school attitude reminded him painfully of Chris, and Wyatt swallowed. "Okay then. Um… let's start with something simple. A spell to make something vanish."

"Lame," Tash coughed into her hand, but when he gave her a hard look, she just raised her eyebrows insolently, daring him to bite. Wyatt fought to keep a hold on his temper. He didn't lose it often, but when he did the results could be spectacular and that was the last thing they needed.

"The Vanishing spell can be used to make things disappear," he continued, drawing a piece of crumpled paper from his pocket. He'd scribbled down a number of common spells on there before coming to the meeting – no way in hell was he allowing this girl anywhere near the Book of Shadows.

"You just have to fix whatever you want to vanish in your mind and say the words. Like…" He cast around and picked up the top magazine from a pile that teetered unsteadily on the floor. A scantily clad woman pouted at him from the cover and he quickly unearthed a pen from the mess that was strewn across the coffee table instead. "This'll do."

He cleared his throat, checked the words of the spell again and stared at the pen. "_Let the object of objection become but a dream, as I cause the seen to be unseen_."

The pen faded out with very little fanfare. As magic went it was hardly explosive and he was expecting some kind of sarcastic comment from the ball of attitude sitting beside him. Instead she was silent. Even the gnashing of her teeth had stopped.

He risked a glance sideways. Tash was sitting forward, one hand out as if she wanted to touch the pen. Her black-ringed eyes were wide in her pale face and there was almost a smile on her lips.

"That's magic," she breathed, the smile growing. "Fucking magic!"

As she laughed, hugging herself like a child, Wyatt finally realised what had prompted her out of character reaction. She'd never seen magic before. She'd known about it all her life, had the potential to do great things with it, but it had been kept just out of reach. He tried to imagine how he would feel if his parents had done the same thing, but it was impossible – Mom and Dad would never had made that choice. Magic was too much a part of their family. But it was a part of Tash's family too and yet her mom had gone the other way. Maybe there was a reason in there – Wyatt didn't know. What he did know was that for that brief second, he forgot Tash was a Phoenix witch and just allowed himself to enjoy seeing the wonder of magic through her eyes.

Realising she'd been caught giggling like a school girl, Tash fixed her scowl back into place. "Is that it?" She gave an affected sniff of disdain. "Not very impressive."

"Basic stuff," he reminded her. "Learn this and it'll open a lot of doors. You want to bring it back?" He held out the scrap of paper.

After a brief hesitation she'd never admit to, Tash took it. "You write like a blind guy," she informed him. "I can't read this."

Now that he'd seen the girl under all the attitude, the sour comment didn't annoy him as much as it would have earlier. "Fine. Repeat after me then. _Let the object of objection return, so its existence can be reaffirmed_."

Pulling a face at the hokey rhyme – to be honest, Wyatt didn't blame her there – Tash parroted the words. When the pen didn't reappear, she scowled at the empty space on the table. "You wrote it down wrong."

Wyatt checked the paper. "Er, no, I don't think I –"

"Then why isn't it working?" She said the spell again, but the pen remained firmly vanished. Letting out an angry sigh, Tash collapsed back into the couch. "This is a load of shit."

"Maybe…" Wyatt paused, thinking how to phrase it then decided to plump for the direct approach. "Maybe losing the gum would be a good idea? It's mangling your pronunciation."

She gave a few more open-mouthed chews for good measure, then finally relinquished the gum to the trash can before trying to spell again. Still nothing.

"Are you concentrating on the pen?"

"Yes, I'm concentrating on the fucking pen – only it's a big empty space, isn't it?"

"You need to imagine the pen _within_ that space," Wyatt coached patiently. "If you just think about the space, it won't work. Picture the pen appearing there."

"This is stupid," she baulked, stubbornness in every line of her body.

Watching her, Wyatt realised it was time to change tack. "Well, if you're afraid to try..."

She sat up suddenly. "I'm not afraid."

He hid a smile. "Prove me wrong."

Muttering insults he pretended he couldn't hear, Tash studied the empty space on the table. Seconds passed, ten, twenty, and then she reluctantly muttered the spell. The air above the table shimmered slightly and then the pen finally emerged.

Tash leaned forward and picked it up, turning it around in her fingers. "I did it. I did magic."

Wyatt swallowed an I-told-you-so and just said, "Once is a fluke. Do it ten times in a row and that's magic."

She rose to the challenge, full of eagerness, the pen appearing and disappearing more easily each time. On the eight time she snatched up the pen again. "Alright, I'm done. Next spell."

"Same spell," Wyatt corrected, "different target. Something a bit bigger than a pen… how about the TV?"

She dismissed it with a flip of her hand. "Time to move on."

"Not until you've vanished something bigger. A pen's easy. The TV…" He shook his head, "… not sure you're ready for that."

She fell for it again, vanishing the TV in a matter of seconds and returning it just as easily. "Happy now?"

"Good." Wyatt folded up his impromptu spell sheet and returned it to his pocket. "Tell me about the Phoenix."

Tash stared at him. "Wait, what? You're supposed to be teaching me magic!"

"And in return, _you're_ supposed to tell me about the Phoenix witches." Wyatt reminded her pleasantly. "It's your turn. How are your family related to them?"

She glared at him, obviously wanting to tell him where to shove it, but the lure of magic was too strong. "Mom's sister is head of one of the ruling family groups," she admitted grudgingly. "Then above that you've got Mom's cousin, Lin. She's, like, the big boss. I only met her once – she tried to convince Mom to let me be trained. Mom threw her out of the house." It was clear from her disgruntled tone what Tash thought of her mom's decision.

Lin. He had a name. Wyatt filed the name away for further investigation. "How many of you are there?"

Tash shook her head. "Nice try. Magic first, _remember_?" She mimicked his tone from before. Wyatt told himself to count to ten and at the end of it he managed a half-smile. "Magic first."

It went on like that for while, with Wyatt bargaining away a spell in exchange for a nugget of information. At the end of the hour, he was fairly confident he'd learned all he needed to know about Tash's family. What he still didn't know was how to find them.

He waited as Tash used the Lost and Found spell to reclaim a black leather jacket she'd lost at a party a year before. When the garment was in her hands, in all its scuffed and battered glory, he asked where their hideout was.

With all his predictably brilliant timing, the owner of the flat they were in chose that moment to shimmer into the middle of the room, beanie firmly in place, trench coat pulled up to his neck. Seeing them just sitting there on the couch, Dex blinked owlishly from behind his glasses.

"How's it going, kids? You know, I was kind of expecting more fireworks."

"Dex –" Wyatt began.

"Check it out," Tash interrupted, casting a couple of the spells she'd just learned. Dex looked suitably impressed. "Looking good there, Tasha." He flashed a bright grin at her and to Wyatt's bemusement she blushed and began playing with her hair. Lothario half-demon strikes again.

"Dex," he tried again, "we're kind of busy here."

"Lighten up, Wy – I think _someone_ deserves a study break." He bounced onto the sofa between them and whispered something to Tasha that Wyatt didn't catch, causing her to let out something that sounded suspiciously like a giggle.

"Why are you here?" Wyatt asked finally, trying not to sound as annoyed as he felt. His friend had promised – sworn on his damn life – that he'd make himself scarce. He knew how important this was!

"Because this is my place?" Dex pulled a sad face. "Besides, I was getting lonely. So sue me. I'll just be the half-time entertainment, 'kay?"

"But she was just about to tell me –" Wyatt gave up. Dex wasn't listening; he was too busy distracting Tash with the energy ball he was tossing from hand to hand.

"Now _this_ is magic," he crowed. "Major league style."

"Can I learn that?" she demanded, leaning forward.

"I dunno. Can she learn that?" Dex echoed, craning his neck around so he was looking at Wyatt.

"Not from me," Wyatt said firmly. "Spells and potions only."

"Ah, c'mon, Wy," the half-demon protested. "Energy balls are a rite of passage for us. How'd you feel if you couldn't orb, huh? _Huh_?"

Wyatt pushed himself up from the couch. "Orbing doesn't kill people," he said coolly, looking past Dex to Tasha. "Look, I agreed to do this because you said you'd help me find the Phoenix. I've held up my end of the bargain – where are they?"

Tasha rose too, folding her arms across her chest. "Teach me how to make an energy ball and maybe I'll tell you."

The words were like a prison door slamming shut and Wyatt realised what a mistake he'd made, coming here against his better judgement and teaching a dark witch, of all people. "No," he said flatly. "You wanna learn so badly? Ask your friend there. We're done." He stepped over the pile of magazines and strode towards the exit. Dex hurried after him, catching his sleeve.

"Wy, Wy, Wy, c'mon man, don't be like that," the half-demon wheedled.

"You _promised_ you wouldn't interfere!" Wyatt hissed, keeping his voice low.

Dex shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry! I just… I got bored."

"You got bored? God, Dex, this isn't a – a game or just mucking around! You're over a hundred years old – _act like it_."

"I know," the half-demon said miserably. When Wyatt made to go, he tightened his grip. "Hey, wait, please? I'll make it up to you, I promise. Look. Hey, Tash?" he called over his shoulder. "Do me a favour and answer his question, yeah?"

She thought about it for a long time. Dex let go of Wyatt and returned to her side, promising her he'd make it worth her while. The leer on his face sent a shudder down Wyatt's spine, but Tasha seemed enchanted. "Whatever," she said finally. "Not like I know anyway."

It was like a blow to Wyatt's gut. "You don't _know_?"

"Cool it, Teach – there's a way to find out. Guess who's coming to dinner next week?" She paused for effect, looking disappointed when he didn't bite. "Lin. Some kind of 'mending bridges' thing," she added, complete with air quotes. "Lame. Mom'll never back down."

Wyatt's mind raced, trying to think of a way to turn the unexpected news to his advantage. "Who's going?"

"Er, family?" Tash said sarcastically, but when he didn't back down, she rolled her eyes. "Fine. Me, mom, dad, Lin. Oh and Matt," she added, almost as an afterthought.

"Matt."

"My, uh, boyfriend." She glanced at Dex before hurrying on. "He's a mortal and it's Mom's way of making sure Lin can't talk about magic. Kinda funny as she hates him." She looked at Dex again, but he seemed completely unbothered by the revelation he had some competition and when she realised that, she relaxed back into her old attitude. "Silly bitch."

"Got a picture of Matt?" Wyatt asked suddenly, an idea forming.

"Yeah… wanna see if he's your type?"

"Not exactly." He waited as she pulled one from her wallet. In it, Tasha pouted at the camera while a boy bobbed awkwardly in the background. With his spiky dark hair, pierced nose and trench coat, he looked like a kid playing dress up.

"Ooh, ooh, I get it!" Dex declared, clapping his hands together. "You're gonna glamour yourself."

Wyatt nodded, studying the picture closely. When he thought he had it, he drew on the power and transformed himself into the mysterious Matt.

Tash jumped, eyes going wide. "What the fu – how'd you do that?"

"Whitelighter power," Dex informed her sagely. "Comes in handy when you want information, huh, Wy?"

"Sometimes," Wyatt agreed, startling himself with the much higher voice that emerged from his mouth. Sounded like poor Matt's voice was taking a long time to break.

He crossed to where a mirror was hanging lopsidedly on the wall and studied his reflection. Matt stared back, his Goth-like appearance at odds with Wyatt's normal jeans and shirt. "I'll need new clothes."

"I can help you there, my man." Dex dashed into his bedroom and after several loud crashes he remerged, clutching a long coat, ripped jeans and a black t-shirt with the emblem of some ancient death metal band on it. "Careful – that's vintage!" he warned as Wyatt gingerly accepted them.

His eyes met Tash's in the mirror. She looked… not angry, as he might have expected, but definitely unsettled. Not that he could blame her.

"When's the dinner?" Wyatt asked, holding the t-shirt up against Matt's skinny frame. Tash frowned for a second and then her face cleared as she realised what he was getting at. "No. No way. You're crazy."

"Try desperate," Wyatt corrected, stuffing the clothes into his bag over Dex's protests. He straightened and met Tash's eyes squarely. "I need to do this."

She shrugged. "You might, but I don't. This meal's gonna suck enough without having _you_ there."

"Tash –"

"God, will you turn back already? You've freaking me out."

"I need to come to that meal," Wyatt pressed, keeping hold of Matt's form. "You want to mess with your mom right? Let me do it."

Tash was halfway through shaking her head when she paused. "How?" she challenged.

Wyatt hadn't expected her to agree so quickly. "Er… I'll be a complete dick. Embarrass her in front of Lin."

"And embarrass me too? Great plan. No, really, brilliant." She rooted through her bag for a second and tugged a pack of gum free. Popping a new piece in her mouth, she rolled it around a few times before starting to chew enthusiastically. "Take me home?" She slung the question at Dex, who was hovering over by the mirror.

"I'll distract your mom so you can talk to Lin," Wyatt interrupted, stopping in front of her.

"She'll be waiting for that," Tash returned scornfully, hands finding her hips again.

"From you maybe, but not from me. I'm mortal, remember? The whole reason I'm there is to stop any magic talk, so why I be trying to distract her to allow that very thing to happen?"

Wyatt held his breath as she thought that one through. It was difficult to say if she'd go for it; the more time he spent with Tash, the more unpredictable she became. If she didn't… Wyatt was fast running out of options here.

"How do I know you won't just, like, not do it?" she asked finally.

"Honestly? You don't. But the further you're in with the Phoenix, the better for me. It's in my interest to help you."

Another brief silence, aside from the grinding of her jaw. Wyatt could see Dex bobbing up and down out of the corner of his eye, like the half-demon was bouncing on the walls of his feet, and he hoped that for once in his life his friend would choose to keep his mouth shut. The last thing this situation needed was Dex Stafford diving in, feet first. Problem was, Wyatt knew from experience that sometimes Dex just couldn't help himself.

When it looked like Dex was going to burst, Wyatt stepped deliberately in front of him, putting a barrier between his friend and Tash. "Well?" he asked of the girl.

"You screw me over and you're dead, Halliwell," she said, poking him in the chest with enough force to leave a bruise. "The meal's at 7.30 on Tuesday. You better brush up on Matt's life before then if you don't want Mom to smell a giant, stinky rat."

He knew better than to ask her for help on that. Wyatt sighed inwardly. Looked like he was going to spend the next few days stalking the unfortunate Matt.

"And for fuck's sake, change back? Jesus."

As she collected her things, Wyatt finally released the glamour and was relieved to see himself peering back at him in the mirror. Watching over his head, Dex gave him a thumbs up and mouthed the word "wingman". Wyatt hid a smile as he gathered up his things.

He picked up the crumpled list of spells and was about to shove it back in his pocket, when something made him offer it to Tash instead.

"Here," he said. "For practice."

Tash took it gingerly, as if afraid of what might happen. "You seriously setting me homework?"

"I thought you wanted to learn magic."

"Yeah, but…"

"Practice, don't practice – it's up to you. I've done my part." He slung his bag over his shoulder and nodded to Dex. "Thanks for your loan of your place. And, er, the clothes."

"Hey, anytime man! You want help with the Matt thing? 'Cos you know how good I am at stakeouts."

Wyatt smiled weakly. "You'll be the first one I call."

"Damn straight."

Tossing a wave over his shoulder, Wyatt walked out into the hall of Dex's one-bed apartment, narrowly avoiding tripping over a hat stand. As he wondered _why_ Dex had a hat stand when he wore the same beanie, day in, day out, threads of conversation drifted through from the lounge.

"So, Matt."

"Yeah."

"Serious?"

Tash snorted. "Hardly. He's a nerd. But he's a _loaded_ nerd, so…"

"You know… _I'm_ pretty loaded."

Thankfully Wyatt was able to get the front door opened and closed before he had to hear any more of that conversation. He felt a brief pang of conscience that maybe he shouldn't have left a fourteen year old alone with a horny half-demon, but judging by how Tash had put him through the ringer over the last hour, it was probably Dex he should be worried about. Looked like Tash was more like her mother than she'd ever admit.

As he trudged down the stairs, he reflected that all in all, the session hadn't been as bad as he'd expected. Despite the bad attitude, Tash had been a willing student and there'd even been moments when he'd got lost in her infectious enthusiasm for magic, when being a teacher had been almost fulfilling. He'd always wondered how his dad could teach at Magic School, particularly as a mortal, but now he was starting to understand. There was something very satisfying in learning through someone else's eyes.

The Matt situation he could have done without, but at least he had an in now, and the chance to meet the leader of the Phoenix witches herself. Step, by tiny step, he was getting closer to Chris.

Wyatt smiled to himself as he pushed open the fire door and stepped out into the cool evening.

It was just a matter of time now.


	6. Chapter Six: Chris

**A/N:** As always, thanks for everyone who has reviewed this story and long may you continue to enjoy it! Particular thanks go to AliHal for an idea that I use in this chapter (hopefully you'll recognise which one) as it solved a problem I was having.

* * *

**Chapter Six: Chris**

"Again."

Gritting his teeth, Chris pulled on the dangerous power brewing inside of him. It sprang to his command, fizzing along his veins like fire and bursting from his fingers. He drew his hands apart and the lightning followed, dancing back and forth between his palms, reaching curious tendrils towards the world, but not striking.

Focusing all of his attention on one hand, he channelled the power into it, drew his arm back and then let go. A bolt of lightning flashed across the room and hit the target resting against the far wall on the upper left-hand side, leaving a scorch mark on the white surface. Several more just like it marked the wall beyond the target.

"Bullseye!" a jubilant voice cried – Liv, bouncing up and down on her toes.

"Hardly," that was from Amy, accompanied by a disdainful sniff.

"Well done." A slow smile from Bianca that did funny things to his insides.

He offered them an ironic half bow, outwardly cool but inwardly wanting to do backflips. Finally. _Finally_, he was making real progress, gaining real control. Learning not just how to call his power out, but how to direct it and bend it to his will. How to hone it into a weapon to take down enemies… and how to stop it from hurting innocents.

Lin clapped her hands together. "That's enough girls. I believe you have your own practicing to be getting on with…?"

They dispersed back to their own targets, which were far more complex than his simple white square. As he watched, Liv began tossing an energy ball back and forth between her hands, before striking a pose like a pitcher ready to strike. Amy, on the other hand, simply flicked her manicured fingers in the direction of her target, sending a lazy energy ball looping across the room.

Lin touched his shoulder. "Think you can do that again?"

He tore his eyes away from where Bianca was flexing her neck and shoulders, limbering up and showing a whole lot of silky skin, and considered his own target.

"Hell yes."

This time it was faster, as if his body was finally beginning to accept that the power was a part of him. The lightning bolt struck the target on the right side this time, slightly closer to the centre than before.

"Good." Lin's voice was warm with approval. "Do that twenty more times and we'll move you up to the next level."

It was hard, and left him breathless and dripping with sweat, but when the eighteenth, nineteenth and twentieth bolts smashed through the dead centre of the target, it made it all worth it. As did Liv's whoop and the slow, burning look Bianca flashed him over her mom's shoulder.

Lin inspected the target and nodded. "You've found your control. This is excellent progress, Chris."

He shrugged, affecting nonchalance. "Thanks."

"Time to mix things up a little." Lin led him away from the damaged target, towards another corner of the room where a familiar white square awaited him. As he went to move closer, Lin caught his shoulder. "From here."

"Here?" Chris assessed the distance; it had to be twice what he'd just been doing.

"Hit it twenty times," she instructed him, before moving on to check on Amy's progress.

Okay. He could do this. The target was smaller thanks to the increased distance, but everything else was exactly the same. No problem.

As his first attempt slammed wildly into the wall beyond the target, Chris began to reassess his earlier optimism.

An hour later, with twenty more scorch marks to his name, Lin set him in front of a series of moving targets with the same instructions. Several more, increasingly difficult, tests followed as the morning wore on, until, sagging with exhaustion, he finally landed a single shot on the tiny target that was darting erratically around the room. It wasn't twenty. It wouldn't be twenty for a while, but it was a start.

"Break for lunch," Lin called, opening the door of the training room. "This afternoon we'll see about putting what you've learned into practice."

Liv and Amy trailed after her, bickering about who'd made the most bullseyes, while Chris just focused on remaining on his feet.

"Alright, boyfriend?"

Pushing sweaty hair out of his eyes, he returned Bianca's smile. Hearing that word from her lips was still kind of weird. Brilliant, but weird. Sometimes he had to pinch himself to make sure it wasn't just his fantasies playing out in real-time.

"Your mom's brutal," he gasped out between heaving breaths.

"She can be a total passive-aggressive bitch," Bianca agreed without any heat. "Still, got to admit she's effective." Her gaze lingered on his chest, where the top he was wearing was damp with sweat. "You were looking good out there, Halliwell."

"Yeah?" Chris stretched his arms out and shook his hands a couple of times, playing for cool and not quite getting there. "So were you."

She shrugged modestly. "Nothing I haven't done a million times before. Trust me, it'll get easier."

"Maybe in a million years," Chris grumbled, snatching up his towel from where it lay in a heap in the corner, and running it over his damp hair. "I think I'm going to die. No, scratch that, I think I already have died."

Bianca chuckled at his melodrama. "Didn't you do anything like this growing up?"

"Not this intense." He slung the towel around his neck and picked gingerly at his clothes. "Eugh, I stink. Shower time."

"Want some company?"

His head whipped around so fast that something in his neck popped painfully. Getting naked with Bianca was something that had been occupying his daydreams more and more lately. As a growing teenage boy, sex was never really far from his thoughts, but since hooking up with Bianca it was quickly becoming an obsession. She was just so… beautiful. And sexy as hell. And older – God, it might only be a few years age difference between them, but sometimes it felt like miles and he wondered what she was doing with a little boy like him. She must have loads of experience and he… well, his last girlfriend had been a while ago now and all they'd done anyway was fool around a bit. Actually doing _it_ – that was another stage entirely. Doing it in the showers, with all that water thrown in for good measure and slippery, naked skin –

Laughter pulled him out of his panic and he came back down to Earth to find Bianca leaning against the wall, eyes dancing. "You should have seen your face!"

Realisation dawned that she'd been joking. Burning with humiliation, Chris strode past his girlfriend and towards the showers. He was in need of one, fast. A long, cold one.

She followed him. "Chris, I was just teasing."

"Yeah, well it wasn't funny," he retorted, stung by her attitude. "I'll see you later."

"Chris, c'mon –" She caught hold of his arm. "Don't go. I'm sorry, okay?"

He lingered unwillingly, arm outstretched, forcing her to come to him. She did so, stepping around so she was standing in front of him. "You wanna tell me where that came from?"

_About as much as I want to stick my head in a blender_, Chris thought, eyeing the door to the showers over her shoulder and wondering how he could get out of this without causing a huge scene.

Bianca's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "This is about sex, isn't it?" she deduced.

Now Chris did pull away, making his retreat, scene be damned. He should have known Bianca wasn't going to let him get away that easily; somehow she managed to get between him and the door and press her back against it, effectively blocking his exit. "Isn't it?"

"What if it is?" he fired back, irritated.

"Then I don't get what the problem is."

"Bianca, I'm_ sixteen_. Do you really think I've –" He bit back the words, feeling hot with shame and wishing that blender was to hand.

A soft hand touched his cheek. "You think that matters to me?"

He shrugged awkwardly, but before he could say anything she reached up and pulled him into a kiss. Her spicy perfume wrapped around him and the part of his brain that was still functioning marvelled at how she could still smell so good after the workout they'd just been put through.

Several very pleasurable minutes later, Bianca drew back, her breathing as ragged as his had been before the kiss. "Do you _really_ think it matters to me?"

"I guess – I guess not," he managed.

"When it happens, it happens," she said matter-of-factly. "Although," she added with a mischievous grin, "it probably won't be in the showers."

"Start me off slow," Chris agreed sardonically, his good humour returning now that he knew where he stood. "A table maybe. Or a desk."

"A bed," she promised, eyes darkening.

"Wanna go now?" he half-joked.

For one heady moment he thought she was going to agree, but then she reluctantly shook her head. "I've got some work to do for Mom. See you later?"

"Later," he agreed, then watched her leave the room, admiring the way her butt looked in her tight work-out trousers. With the revelation that she wasn't bothered by his lack of experience, it felt like a weight had been lifted and Chris found himself grinning like a loon. This was real. This was his life. He had a super-hot girlfriend who wanted to sleep with him, and he was finally beginning to gain some measure of control over his electrokinesis. After what felt like months of doom and gloom, things were beginning to look up.

* * *

Whatever work Bianca was doing for her mom kept her busy for the rest of the morning and well into the afternoon. Chris spent some time slumped in front of the TV, channel-hopping restlessly, until Liv stuck her head around the door. "Hey, you know how to make potions, right?"

Chris's eyebrow rose. "Why don't I like where this is going?"

" 'Cos you're a paranoid little freak," Liv countered promptly. "But you're, like, a potions master too, so are you gonna help or what?"

'Potions master' was bit of an exaggeration, but Chris did have a bit of a flair for the craft. His dad had once said he took after his mom in that respect, which had just made Chris roll his eyes. As far as he was concerned, he and his mom were nothing alike.

"C'mon, help me!" Liv pleaded annoyingly. He knew she wouldn't give up until he agreed, so Chris figured he'd save himself the hassle.

"Alright." He levered himself up off the couch. "But you owe me."

"Yeah, sure, whatever. Move it, slow-poke!"

Pulling a face at Liv's back, Chris followed the younger Everett sister through the house, up the stairs and into a room off the landing that he'd never been inside of before. It looked like some kind of study, only the bookcases on the walls held some familiar looking herbs and spices. The cauldron on the table in the centre was a bit of a giveaway too.

Liv ignored all the potion paraphernalia and crossed to one of the only bookcases that actually held books. She counted spines from left to right and then withdrew a small book, with a dark pink cover and a silver symbol etched into the front. She thumbed through it, muttering to herself, and then brandished it triumphantly in his face. "There!"

The text was too close and swam in front of his eyes. Chris pushed her hand back so he could focus. It was a list of ingredients for a potion – no surprise there – but the effects of the potion gave him pause. "A truth potion?"

"Yes, it's a truth potion, no, I'm totally not going to tell you that it has something to do with Jacob Hetherington from my math class and yes, I'm going to alter it so the effect doesn't last that long." The words tumbled out of Liv's mouth in their hurry to escape. "That's what I need you for."

It sounded decidedly dodgy and Chris felt a surge of pity for the unfortunate Jacob Hetherington. "I've got a better idea. How about you just straight out ask this guy what you want to know?"

"Um, because he's a _guy_," Liv said obviously, her expression clearly saying she thought he was an idiot. "Can you alter it or not?"

He probably could. It was just nowhere near safe enough to unleash on an innocent.

He studied the page and came to a quick decision. "I'll make you an antidote instead, how's that?"

Liv considered. "I guess it'll have to do," she said ungratefully. "Where do we start?"

It took about an hour to brew the potion and antidote, an hour punctuated by Liv's one-sided banter and the increasingly feeling that he should have just said 'no' from the start. While they were waiting for the antidote to cool enough to bottle up, Chris picked up the pink book and began flipping through it. He quickly realised it was more than just a common potions book.

"What is this?"

"Hmm?" Liv barely glanced away from where she was carefully labelling the potion bottle. "Oh, just the Grimoire."

The word sounded familiar. Chris turned another page and was confronted by a face he recognised. "Balthazar." A half-demon who, if the stories were true, had been his uncle once upon a time. Twisted didn't even _begin_ to describe his family. "Why do you have a book with…" His logic answered the question for him. "This is like your Book of Shadows, isn't it?"

"What's a Book of Shadows?"

"It's like… well, like this, I guess, only it belongs to my – to the Halliwell family."

"Interesting," Liv murmured, in a tone that suggested it really wasn't.

He flicked through several more pages, passing over drawings of a variety of demons and magical creatures, mixed in with spells and potion recipes. It really was remarkably similar to the Book, right down to the yellowing pages and the way the handwriting changed from entry to entry, as if it had been added to over the years. He skimmed over an entry of mermaids, turned the page and almost dropped the book.

"What the fu – why is there a page on Mom in here?"

Liv perked up. "Really?" She scooted across to join him, perched on the edge of the table. "Hey, she's kinda pretty. Guess you take after your dad, huh."

Chris studied the drawing of his mother, his stomach twisting painfully. It must have been in the Grimoire for a while because she was young, like she looked in the photos dotting the Manor from when Aunt Prue had still been alive, hair long and dark, and brown eyes level. Judging him. _Lying_ to him.

"I guess it makes sense…" Liv said slowly. "The Charmed Ones are the ultimate power for Good, so they probably get their own chapter. I think there's a load of stuff about the Source in there too. I dunno really – never read much of it."

They were all in there, Chris discovered. Aunt Phoebe, Aunt Paige, even Aunt Prue. Wyatt got his own page too, of course, while Chris and Melinda were just a footnote along with their cousins. Still, seeing his entire family laid out in another witch clan's spell book was kind of eerie.

"What are you doing?"

Chris looked up. Bianca was framed in the doorway, but she wasn't staring at Liv or the potion-making evidence scattered around the room – she was staring at him. No, more accurately she was staring at the book in his hands. He closed it quickly, feeling like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't. "I was helping Liv –"

"Oh relax, will you, Bianca?" Liv interrupted airily. "I was just borrowing your boyfriend's potion making skills, not spilling the family secrets." She dipped a finger into the antidote in the cauldron and nodded approvingly. "Almost ready."

"And this potion… was in the Grimoire?"

"Er, yeah. That's why Chris is holding it, duh." Liv cast about for an empty potion vial. Chris silently handed her one, all the while keeping his focus on Bianca, who seemed oddly on edge.

"If it's private, I won't look again," he offered carefully, "only Liv didn't say –"

"No, it's fine." Bianca plucked the book from his hands and returned it to the shelf, touching the cover lightly before leaning against the stacks. The tension she'd held before faded. "We're just a bit protective of it, so I was surprised to see it off the shelf."

Chris relaxed too. "Tell me about it. The Book of Shadows remains in the attic of Casa de Halliwell at all times. It even has a _pedestal_." He pulled a face, making her laugh.

Liv stoppered the antidote and held it up to the light from the bulb overhead. "Perfect."

"Liv, do I even want to know what potion you're brewing?" Bianca asked resignedly.

"Nope," her sister said cheerfully, dumping both the potion and antidote in her bag. "Well, this has been super-fun but I've got better places to be. Thanks, Chris. Laters."

Bianca watched her whirlwind of a sister leave and shook her head. "One day she's going to blow herself up."

"And take Jacob Hetherington with her," Chris muttered, hoping whatever answers the other man gave Liv were to her liking.

"Who's – no, wait, don't tell me. Then I can claim innocence when Mom catches her." Bianca pushed away from the stacks. "Speaking of Mom, she's got a job for us. Don't look so excited; it's just dinner with some relatives."

"Okay." Chris drew the word out, not following the logic. "Why do we need to be there?"

"Mom's cousin broke from the clan ages ago, which Mom's never been too happy about. She kept trying to convince her to come back, but Erica wouldn't have it, so Mom eventually had to leave her be. Only now she's got a daughter, Natasha, and Mom says she needs training, so…"

"Natasha's a witch?"

"All the Phoenix daughters are. Tasha's… thirteen, I think? Coming into her active powers in a big way."

"Why wouldn't Erica want her trained?"

Bianca shrugged. "She's caught up in her mom's whole magic-is-evil thing. So this is Mom's last ditch attempt to change that – it's why she's calling in the cavalry." Bianca indicated them with a wave of her hand.

"Dunno what good I'll be," Chris said slowly. "Not like I'm a Phoenix witch."

"No, you're better, Halliwell." She grinned when Chris mock-puffed out his chest. "You're a walking-talking example of Mom's training methods in action. I think she wants you to do the pitch to Tasha."

"Great." Any vague excitement Chris had been feeling died with that. "So what time they arriving?"

"We're going over there."

"Er – little problem called my interfering family?" Chris reminded her. "I don't think you really want them dropping in during dinner. Maybe you should go without me –"

"Mom's got you covered – she's come up with some kind of cloaking spell. It's similar to what she's used on the house."

"Oh, right. Brilliant."

Bianca took his hand. "It'll be fine. Honestly, it's a losing fight anyway – no way Erica'll back down. But let's just go and keep everyone on side, okay?"

"Sure," he agreed unenthusiastically. "I guess it's free food."

"That's the spirit."

* * *

Five hours later he found himself standing on the doorstep of Erica Messario's house, cloaked in magic and uncomfortably tugging at the suit jacket he was wearing. It belonged to the boyfriend of someone in the clan, and it was slightly too short in the arms. Hopefully he could take it off as soon as he was inside and no one would notice.

The woman who answered the door was dressed immaculately, in a dark blue dress, pearls and black heels. Her hair had been artfully styled and she had a bright smile on her face that didn't reach her eyes. "Lin," she welcomed, embracing her cousin as briefly as she could. "Please do come in."

They trooped inside, Chris bringing up the rear. It was a nice enough house, he supposed. Large, airy and modern, but also somehow soulless. A girl and boy were loitering over by the bottom of stairs, but he couldn't seem them too well from where he was standing.

Erica waved the girl forward. She was also wearing a dress – black this time – and a thunderous scowl. "You remember my daughter, Natasha?"

Lin nodded. "Yes, although she was much smaller the last time I saw her."

"Indeed," Erica said thinly. "And this is her… friend. Matthew."

The dark haired boy turned around. He was completely unremarkable, from his badly cut hair down to his slightly-less-than-formal black jeans and t-shirt, but as their eyes met a jolt ran down Chris's spine.


	7. Chapter Seven: Wyatt

**A/N: **I'm not sure why, but this chapter was really hard to write. I'm still not satisfied with it, but I think it's as good as it's going to get and it's time to share it with the world. I should warn you that there is some swearing later on, so please look away now if you're likely to be offended by this.

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Wyatt**

Wyatt stared at the familiar face of his little brother and forgot how to breathe.

He'd spent a lot of time thinking about how this evening might go. Planning what he was going to say, how he was going to act. What he'd do if they somehow saw through his disguise.

Never once, not even for a second, had he wondered if he'd meet Chris here. Yet here his brother was, standing in Tash's entrance hall, hands in his pockets and a slouch in his shoulders. A few feet away and yet miles apart.

Story of their life.

He looked older, that was Wyatt's first thought. Older and somehow more relaxed, more confident, more at ease with himself than Wyatt had ever seen him. It was a far cry from the traumatised, terrified brother of his memories and Wyatt found it difficult to reconcile the two. Had Chris really changed that much in such a short space of time?

Wyatt wasn't alone in his scrutiny. As Lin and Erica continued their awkward, forced introductions, Chris stared right back at him, a frown between his eyes. For one endless moment Wyatt feared his brother was going to out him, right there in the middle of a clan of hostile witches, but the girl beside Chris distracted him with a murmured comment. Whatever she said brought a flash of a smile to Chris's face and Wyatt was quickly forgotten.

They moved from the entrance hall into a large sitting room, with a couch and wide flat-screen TV at one end and a dining table and set of chairs looking out across the garden at the other. The table was set out with shiny white china, and almost groaning under the weight of the vast platters of food.

"You didn't have to go to all this trouble," Lin commented.

"Oh, it's no trouble," Erica lied airily through her teeth. "Only the best for the illustrious matriarch of our family."

They exchanged thinly veiled looks, like two lionesses circling a wounded antelope. The byplay between them was oddly fascinating. Lin was proving to be more than a match for Erica and it was difficult to tell who was going to win this battle of wills.

"Won't you sit down?" Erica drew out a chair at the head of the table and Lin slipped into it. As everyone went to follow, she caught hold of her daughter's arm. "Natasha, you'll sit here, between me and Matthew."

It was at the opposite end of the table; as far away from Lin as possible. If Erica was trying for subtle then she was failing, badly.

Tash rolled her eyes at her mom's transparent behaviour and defiantly took a place next to Lin. Erica's mouth drew into a tight line, but instead of objecting she thrust Wyatt into the chair beside her daughter. By the time he'd regained his composure, the rest of the table was settled and he found himself face to face with the one member of the party he'd been purposefully avoiding: the one who'd been introduced as Lin's daughter. The one who'd stolen his brother away from them and was still standing between them.

Bianca.

She was pretty; very pretty. Huge dark eyes, olive skin and the kind of body women and men alike dreamed about. But under all that was a Phoenix witch. A dangerous assassin, who practiced manipulation and murder on a daily basis. Chris couldn't know the truth. If he knew then there's no way he'd be sitting beside her, trading lingering looks and whispered comments that were hinting at something Wyatt didn't want to think about.

Maybe she'd cast a spell on him. The more Wyatt thought about it, the more he warmed to the idea. Why else would Chris still be hanging around with the Phoenix witches? It would have to be a powerful one to work on the son of a Charmed One, but it had been done to their family before. The Phoenix obviously had strong magic of their own that Wyatt would have to watch out for.

After Erica had said grace, she invited them all to start eating. The food was good – not quite up to Mom's standard, but tasty enough that Wyatt found himself happily tucking in. At first conversation was sparse, but as the plates began to clear, Lin took the opportunity to begin laying her groundwork.

"So, Matthew," Lin began pleasantly, "how do you and Natasha know each other?"

Wyatt busied himself with chewing while he tried to remember the answer. It was one of the first facts Tash has ordered him to learn.

"School," he said once he'd swallowed. "We got paired up together in class."

"He let me copy his homework," Tash threw in nonchalantly. "I let him be my friend in return."

"Natasha!" Erica hissed.

"What? It's true, right Matt?"

Wyatt nodded. From what Tash had told him, it really was. "Pretty much."

"It's hardly appropriate table conversation," Erica cut in, glaring at her daughter.

Tash gave an exaggerated sigh. "Oh relax, Mom. I haven't copied Matt's home work in months now. Not since I got moved next to Adam Bainbright – he is _seriously_ clever. Like, a total future valedictorian."

Lin chuckled over Erica's sounds of outrage. "You know, you remind me of Bianca when she was your age."

"Did she get boys to do her homework too?" Tash wanted to know.

"Like I needed to do that," Bianca scoffed, popping a sliver of carrot into her mouth.

"Well yeah, I guess you had other methods of getting through." Tash twirled her fork around in the air. "Wish we were all that _gifted_."

Bianca's smile didn't meet her eyes. "I didn't need to do that either, kid."

"Girls, please. This isn't a competition," Lin interjected. "Try and keep things civil." When they'd both subsided, she took a few more mouthfuls of food before casually saying, "I'm sure you have your own gifts, Natasha."

Tash snorted. "Not that you'd know. _Someone _won't let me use them."

Lin put her cutlery down and took a sip of the white wine Erica had poured earlier. "And if you could change that?"

"Would anyone like any more potatoes?" Erica interrupted loudly. "Matthew?"

"Um, no. I'm good, thanks." Wyatt ducked his head to avoid being brained by the dish she was thrusting at him. Erica returned to her seat, smoothing down her dress, and struck up an awkward conversation with Bianca to fill the sudden silence.

The next half an hour of the meal played out in that same fashion, over and over again, with Lin subtly raising the subject of Tash's untrained powers, only for Erica to jump in with the distraction of Matthew the Mortal. By the time desert had been served and Erica had risen to clear away the dishes, Wyatt felt like he'd run a marathon.

A sharp elbow digging into his ribs reminded Wyatt that he had a promise to keep before the night was through. _No time like the present_, he thought, rising and collecting his plate and glass. He carried it through to the kitchen, where Erica was putting crockery in the dishwasher with an unnecessary amount of banging and crashing.

"Is everything alright, Mrs Messario?" he asked politely, adding his own load to the dishwasher.

"What? Oh, yes, everything's fine, thank you Matthew."

Wyatt began to help her load the remaining dirty plates and bowls into the dishwasher, playing for time. He didn't have to wait long; Erica was obviously so desperate to vent about her cousin that she'd even take Tash's unsuitable boyfriend as her sounding board. Complaints and protests spilled out of her, happy to be released, and Wyatt suddenly found himself privy to all manner of random information about the Phoenix family and their leader. Before today he'd have been hanging on her every word, hoping for anything that would lead him to his brother, but now Chris was here… well, everything had changed. Wyatt wasn't sure what he was going to do about that yet, but he did know he couldn't just let the chance he'd been given slip through his fingers.

When he found himself alone with Chris in the kitchen some time later, the pair of them having been given the task of choosing any food they wanted to take home in doggy bags, he saw the opportunity he'd been waiting for.

"You got a sec?"

Chris put the half-empty plate of cold meat he'd been examining down on the countertop. He looked around and when he saw that no one else was in the room, realised Wyatt was talking to him. "Uh, yeah. I guess. What –"

"Not here."

Wyatt opened the back door and led the way out into the backyard, expecting Chris to follow. It was large, leafy and green – more like Aunt Phoebe's than Mom's – and Wyatt kept walking down the gravel path until he was sure they were out of sight of the house.

"Okay, we only just met so this is getting weird," Chris announced, coming to a stop behind him. "What do you want?"

Wyatt double-checked their surroundings to make sure no one was going to interrupt them and then took a moment to prepare himself. "I need to show you something. Just… don't freak out, okay?"

"_Really _not the best thing to say to someone when you don't want them to –"

Wyatt dropped the glamour. Chris swore and stumbled backwards, hands coming up defensively and then falling again when he recognised his brother.

"Wyatt?" he said haltingly.

They'd never been particularly close as brothers. The magic and the surname were about all they shared and finding common ground had sometimes seemed impossible. But all of the time and distant that had built up between them just evaporated in the sheer rush of relief that Wyatt felt at having his little brother alive and well before him. He didn't think twice about tugging Chris into a rough embrace.

"God it's good to see you," he muttered.

Chris was trembling in his arms, but he didn't pull back like Wyatt expected. "You're okay," his brother whispered, over and over. "You're okay."

It took Wyatt a while to work out what Chris meant, but then he remembered the last time they'd seen each other, how things had been left. Chris, full of fury, his magic raging out of control. Him, burned and scarred by his brother's hand, lying on the floor, bleeding.

He hugged Chris tighter. "Aunt Paige healed me. You know I'm her favourite nephew."

It was a familiar joke and he heard Chris chuckle weakly. "It doesn't matter how many times you tell yourself that, it's still not true."

"Yeah, yeah." Wyatt ruffled his brother's dark hair and pulled back before things started to get uncomfortable. Chris ran a hand over his face and let all of his breath out in a rush. When he raised his head, his composure was back.

"So what are you doing here?" he asked, perching on a low stone wall that bordered a row of shrubs.

"Looking for you." Wyatt remained standing. With his disguise gone, he couldn't afford to let his guard down for a minute. "That's all I've been doing since you left. Didn't expect to find you here though."

"Why?"

"Well, this was just supposed to be a fact-finding mission. Get some more info on the Phoenix."

"No, I mean – why have you been looking for me?"

Wyatt shot him an incredulous look. "Are you kidding? Chris – you vanished in the middle of the night! We didn't know where you'd gone, how long you were going to be away, who you were with –"

"I needed to clear my head," Chris cut in, voice tight. "Get some distance."

"With a bunch of strangers?"

"I could hardly stay at home."

It was a good point, Wyatt had to admit. If he had been in Chris's position that night… well, he'd have been tempted to run too.

"I get it, I really do –" he began, then abruptly stopped. No, that was a total lie and worse, it was that patronising thing adults always did when they were trying to be 'understanding'. Wyatt paused and tried again. "I don't get it. I never will. But Chris, you've been away long enough and these people you're with… they're dangerous."

"What, because they're not my oh-so-caring family?"

There was an edge to Chris's voice that told Wyatt he needed to choose his next words carefully. "No… because they're assassin witches. I know, it sounds crazy, right? But they're in the Book, Chris – they've practically got their own chapter – and some of the stuff it says… it's not good. It's really not good, I'm sorry."

Wyatt braced himself for the inevitable explosion, the accusations and the denials, but Chris just sat there, head bowed, eyes on his scuffed shoes. The legs of his dark trousers were slightly too short as if they weren't his own.

"Did you hear what I said?" Wyatt asked finally.

"Sure." His brother sounded like they were discussing what they were having for dinner.

"And it doesn't bother you?" When Chris just shrugged, Wyatt almost laughed. "They're assassins, Chris. Assassins. As in, they kill people for a living!"

"I know, alright?" Chris surged up from the wall, forcing Wyatt back a step. "I know!"

Wyatt was stunned into silence. Chris knew about the Phoenix? He knew and he was still here, happily having dinner at one of their houses?

What the hell had happened to his brother.

"Lin told me everything," Chris continued in a quieter tone. "She was upfront about it too. Didn't lie, didn't try to hide, just told me the truth. Do you know how refreshing that was?"

"But – Chris, they _kill_ people."

"So do the Charmed Ones. You wanna put them on trial too?"

Wyatt could barely believe what he was hearing. "How can you compare our family to theirs? That's – that's crazy. We vanquish evil to save innocents. The Phoenix –"

" – are neutral," Chris finished firmly, "and just doing a job."

Wyatt stared at him, reading the truth in the defiance of his stance and his stubborn expression. "You really believe what you're saying," he realised, heart sinking. "You're on their side."

"I'm on _my _side," Chris argued. "And so are they."

He sounded so sure. There was only one explanation for it.

"It's a spell," Wyatt murmured. "It has to be. They've cast some kind of spell on you and –"

"No." Chris cut him off with a wave of his hand. "This, here? This is all me. No spell. No coercion. I went with Bianca because I wanted to and I stayed because they've treated me better than my so-called family _ever_ did."

"How can you _say_ that?" Wyatt demanded. "Do you know what this is doing to mom and dad? It's tearing the family apart!"

"Yeah? Then why aren't they here, spouting off at me?"

Wyatt's frustration boiled over. "Because trying to find you has been like trying to break into Fort Knox! Scrying, spells – nothing worked, Chris. They've got you wrapped around their little finger."

"I'm here because I want to be," Chris shot back, face twisting into an ugly scowl. "No one's forcing me to stay."

"Then come home, _please_." Wyatt hadn't planned on begging, but if it would make Chris see what was really going on here then it was worth it. He came around to stand directly in front of his brother, forcing Chris to look at him. "Please, Chris. Everything's fallen apart. Mom and Dad barely talk, Mel's turned into a ghost and I – I have to fix it. _We _have to fix it and we can, so please just – just come home, okay? Come home."

Chris turned away, plucking a leaf from the branch of a nearby tree and shredding it. Presented with his back, Wyatt struggled to see what his brother was thinking.

"I can't," Chris said at length, watching the fragments of leaf spill through his fingers and scatter onto the ground. "Not now. Maybe not ever. Wyatt… I killed Warren, Jake and Austin. Maybe I had no control, maybe that couldn't have been avoided – I dunno. But I almost killed you and Mel too, and that definitely could have been avoided if you all hadn't insisted on treating me like some pathetic little kid. The Phoenix might not be perfect, but they were honest with me from the start and that – that's worth a lot to me."

"Enough that you'll give up on your family?"

"It's not giving up – it's being practical. Making an adult decision. Look." Chris held out one hand, palm up, fingers unfurled. As Wyatt watched, a ball of lightning blossomed into being, crackling and pulsing in the air. He studied his brother's face and while Chris was clearly concentrating hard, there was no pain there.

"This is what they've given me," Chris said quietly. "It's not perfect and I've still got a lot to learn, but I'm not dangerous anymore. I can get through a training session without hurting anyone."

And that was the moment when Wyatt realised that everything he'd done to get here had been a wasted effort. Spell or no spell, good reasons or bad reasons, Chris was choosing the Phoenix over his family.

Something inside of Wyatt broke.

"And where does the fact that you're panting after Bianca fit into this?" he demanded, disappointment and frustration sharpening his tongue to Chris-like proportions.

Chris flinched. "Fuck off, Wyatt."

"No, come on, you're all about the honesty, right? How much of this hard-on for the Phoenix is more of a hard-on for Bianca?"

"Bianca has nothing to do with this!" his brother growled, red spots standing out on his cheeks.

"Truth's inconvenient sometimes, isn't it?" Wyatt taunted, feeling a perverse sense of pleasure at the anger brimming in Chris's hazel eyes. "You can't pick and choose. Hmm… I guess Bianca's in the same boat when it comes to you. After all, can't be many other options in a clan of all-female witches –"

Chris lunged at him. Expecting the attack, Wyatt side-stepped and his brother went sprawling across the ground. Recovering quickly, Chris bounced up onto his toes, stands of grass in his dark hair, and went for Wyatt again. They grappled for a few moments until Wyatt's greater strength began to tell and he forced Chris back towards the low wall. In retaliation, Chris snaked his leg out and overbalanced them both. Wyatt hit the ground hard and rolled, coming up onto his knees and preparing to stand, only to find his brother matching him step for step, breathing hard.

"You don't know jack shit about Bianca and me," Chris ground out.

"Wake _up_, Chris! Do you really think they're helping you out of the goodness of their hearts? They're manipulating you and you can't even see it!"

"You wanna talk manipulation with me?" Chris laughed – an angry, jarring sound, totally devoid of humour. "How about how you all manipulated me, for _months_, into thinking I'd been in an accident. How about – how about how you manipulated me into trying to train a power that was so far out of control I'd already killed three people with it? How about –"

"Enough!" Wyatt shouted. "You've made your point."

"I haven't even _started_ – " Chris stopped abruptly. He was studying his hand and as he raised it, Wyatt saw the lightning dancing over his fingertips.

Chris snapped his hand shut. "You should go." He brushed past Wyatt and began striding back towards the house.

"Chris –" Wyatt quickly replaced the glamour and hurried after him.

"I'm not coming home with you, end of."

"Okay, okay, but look, can we just talk? I think we –"

"We're done."

Wyatt caught hold of the sleeve of his ill-fitting jacket. "No, we're not."

"Let go."

"C'mon, just listen to me –"

"Wyatt, I don't want to hurt you."

The words, said so calmly, sent a chill down Wyatt's spine. There was something dark behind Chris's eyes, like a stranger was looking out of them, and Wyatt knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that his brother wasn't talking about accidental hurt anymore. He'd been right earlier. The Chris standing in front of him now was miles away from the Chris who'd left him in the attic. For all his talk of self-control, this Chris was far more dangerous.

"Everything okay out here?"

They both jumped. Bianca was framed in the doorway of the house, arms folded across her chest. If she'd seen anything or overheard their conversation, it was impossible to tell.

"Brilliant," Chris lied, ducking past her and disappearing inside. Wyatt made to follow, but Bianca thrust her arm across the gap, blocking him.

"I don't know who you are, or what you want with Chris," she whispered, their faces so close together that her hair tickled his cheek, "but here's some free advice. Back off."

So she'd seen enough to become suspicious then. Fine. He could deal with that.

Wyatt drew himself up. "I could say the same to you."

"You could… but then I already have him, don't I?"

She sashayed after Chris and Wyatt followed her progress, content to let her have her moment of triumph.

"For now," he murmured.


End file.
